The Harvest
by TheWriterWhoCould
Summary: Peeta Mellark closes his eyes. He doesn't want to witness the very thing he'd been praying wouldn't happen this morning. Katniss Everdeen is now a tribute and what makes it worse is...His name is called next. Hunger Games from Peeta's POV
1. Chapter 1

******Readers! I am tackling the task of writing the Hunger Games in Peeta's point of view. That said, I'm not sure if I'll end up changing things around that happen in all three stories but right now I plan on adhering to the book. As always I own nothing and give props to Suzanne Collins who is absolutely brilliant. It's been a long time since a book actually makes me pause and reflect on life. Well, here goes nothing. Enjoy and Review!**

**1**

My hand runs over the dough one last time before I form it into a neat shape, just like the rest of the dough mounds on the table. This will be my last batch before the day concludes, before the reaping. The words fog my brain like someone's set fire to my thoughts and takes pleasure in watching them burn. I shouldn't let it consume me, but it does. The Capitol has taken pleasure in flinging children into the arena for seventy-three years, molding them into chess pieces for their own private games. They sit comfortably in a cushioned lounge, their smug smiles and twisted grins covered by thick layers of make up. They stroke their face and take pride in believing that the slaughter of humans is the best form of entertainment imaginable. It makes me sick.

I turn to the flower cookies I just iced and sneak one away, hoping that neither of my parents notice. They shouldn't be bothered today because I'm the one who will be facing the life and death today. I could be picked, any of my siblings could be. I wish this morning I could have savored the last few hours I spent decorating those cookies, I think to myself. It's the only real passion and talent I can muster. It keeps me occupied which is why, since last week, I have produced more lavish baked goods than ever before. My dad doesn't question my motives, he simply arranges them in the store window. My mother, however, finds any moment to scold me and, if I'm not careful, punish me.

I don't know why I'm so bothered by it this year. While the clock ticks closer to the names being plucked from the glass bowl, a new disgruntled idea of hatred clogs my mind.I have a very unlikely chance of being picked because so many other children have their names entered in vast quantities for a chance at tessera. I stand outside the bakery just to see Katniss Everdeen stroll by the market. Her eyes are focused as always, I know that's she is always thinking of things that far exceed her age. This is why I'm angry with the Hunger Games. It's because someone like Katniss could go in, and me, the baker's son, would never get the chance to tell her the things I clutch close to my heart.

I know I need to get dressed soon and head to square but my mouth turns into chalk. Certainly I could never tell her my feelings because if she went into the Hunger Games she might not make it out and if she is spared I could never get past Gale. I had to stop dwelling on things that were clearly out of my reach. I had to move past this for today to have some kind of clear head.

Once in the square I quietly file into place. I search the crowd for Katniss quickly and I see her, the eyes filled with something I can't describe. It wasn't fear or over confidence. It almost seemed like she was filled with rage and longing to forge a path to abandon whatever is here all at the same time. I'm barely listening to anything when one thing comes to my mind. If Katniss was somehow picked, she would survive. I knew it from all the years I'd seen her come back with game attached to her belt. She could hunt rather than wait to be hunted. This somewhat soothed me. Effie Trinket comes to the stage and is as bubbly as ever. She, of course, loves the games which makes the other people of district 12 shutter with fear and anger.

I'm still blocking the sound out from the podium. I have no interest in anyone glorifying the games. If my name is not called I can just file out silently and leave everyone else. I can hate the Capitol in the comfort of solitude. My head jerks up from watching the dirt for the first time since I stopped looking at Katniss. A name has been called and I don't know what destructive end will meet these words. It's Katniss's sister, Primrose Everdeen.

I don't try to find her again because I can imagine the blow that has just been delivered to her. I know that I will never be the one to comfort her but I am glad she has someone to turn to. You would think that I wouldn't be so attached to her because she doesn't even know I exist, but I am. It's the way her presence fills the room, like some drug people in the Capitol get hooked on. The presence that makes me pine for her. My head is deafeningly silent when I hear the next words spill out of the crowd. A gasp, a familiar voice and a statement that carries a potential death sentence.

"I volunteer!" Katniss barley chokes out. "I volunteer as tribute."

I still don't look but I can hear Primrose's screaming objections. I keep focused because although Katniss has been called, there is nothing that can be done to save her. The boy's names haven't been called and I can think of only one thing. If Gale were a tribute he'd probably send her home as a victor. It's barbaric because he has his own family to take care of, I realize that now after the image of his name being drawn washes from my brain. He shouldn't be called as tribute, no one should be called in the first place.

I can't tell what's going through Katniss's brain because I have no clue what would be going though mine if I were called as a tribute. I just pick a spot on the stage to stare at while Effie recovers from the surprise of a volunteer. I don't know why my brain shifts back to the memory when I threw Katniss those burnt loves of bread. When my mother hit me and when I decided I didn't care. I had to help her because I cared so much about her, someone I hardly knew. I see Effie reach down into the bowl and clutch another piece of paper. I hold my breath because you never real know if the odds will be in your favor. Each second that ticks by is marked by anticipation mixed with fear. I don't know what I'd do if my name were called but it becomes clear that I have to find out because the last thing I hear before I shut down is...

"Peeta Mellark!"


	2. 2

**Trying to pin down Peeta's point of view is an interesting task and so far it's going well for me I think. Hopefully you do too. Reviews are welcome but please don't be destructive.**

**2**

I walk up to the stage, well at least I think I do. It can't seem to actually draw myself together long enough to be making coherent steps. For all I know some peacekeeper could be forcing me to march along like a puppet in the hands of its masters. The mayor finishes his mandatory speech and I face Katniss, ready to shake her hand. I can see it there in her face, the way she is keeping composure to be strong for her family and I know someone has to be strong for her too. I squeeze her hand in an effort to let her know she's not alone but I can see confusion cross her face. I want to desperately say something, fountains of sentences rise to my lips but in the end I resolve to be a mute. One fact is staring dead in my face and it's hard to ignore. I will have to go into an arena and watch the one girl who I've loved from afar will possibly get slaughtered.

I guess at this moment I should be thinking of my own life but i'm not. I'm forced into the Justice Building by a throng of peacekeepers where I'm deposited into a room. I know this is where my loved ones will be able to visit me, but I'm not really sure what to expect. My mother never shows me affection and will probably root for Katniss to win the games. My father doesn't have many things that he can communicate effectively. The impending danger hasn't hit yet. I wonder if past tributes felt the same way I do now, like this is all a cloud of smoke that will in time blow over. I know deep inside it won't be but I try to keep optimistic. If I can spin this situation then it will be bearable.

My father is the first one into the room. He doesn't say anything, his eyes darting off every corner of the room while trying to avoid me. He does come closer, only a foot separates us and I realize this is all he can manage. I know he doesn't want to break down so I don't press for more, I only sigh and shake my father's hand. Then my mother enter's right after he leaves. There is no pain evident on her face which most people would deem as odd, but it is exactly in her character. I'm not saying that she hates me because I know somewhere she has a soft spot for me. My mother is not the type to let that break her tough exterior though.

"That girl will win..." she starts and trails off as if she wanted to say more. Finally, when she recovers what the end of her sentence was going to be, she finished eloquently "She's a fighter."

As if I didn't know that? I saw her hobbling through the streets when I gave her that loaf of bread for survival. I watch her come back stocked with game, wearing each animal's misfortune as a badge of honor. It's why I love her, I think. She will protect the things that are closest to her without a second glance. She would never stand in front of her child and tell him he basically has no chance. I swear as she leaves I see a tear glistening on her cheek and I am satisfied no matter how horrible her words seem because that's the most emotion I've gotten from her in years.

It's then when I start to cry. I can't stop so as the rest of my family pours in for visitation, I barely get out a few jumble words. I wish I could have said more to my father then to just offer him a hand shake and I wish my mother would have turned around to let me see that tear again. I really will miss them and I know I am going to die. There are certain things that you can almost count on and my death is one thing. I've got to accept it and as the tears roll down my face I also have to accept that my goodbyes will never be different. I will never get a second chance at them. I also know that my dreams of telling Katniss that I love her are all over. There is no chance that I'll ever be able to fight for her love against Gale. The bakery, decorating cakes and various other pastries and sweets, my life, has ended with the simple reading of my name.

I could be optimistic now, but I'm not. I just sit in the chair and wait for me to be moved to my next appearance spot. I'm moved to the train station but I'm not aware of my surroundings completely. It's all a blur and I know that my red eyes may show weakness, but I don't care. Even if people view my strength from working at the bakery, carrying things, as a threat, that's fine with me too. I have to begin to think of a strategy because up until now I have been letting my mind only be concerned with Katniss. I have to be able to think about myself also. As we walk onto the train I feel like I should turn and give a last little word to the crowd. I know it wouldn't be allowed but I almost feel rebellious. The doors close without my approval and the train lurches forward.

I am amazed at the splendor of the tribute train. It's kind of like a moving mansion, the first look I've ever gotten into the life of the wealthy Capitol citizens. I'm dismissed to my chambers and I am told to be ready for dinner in an hour. It's not like I'm really going to do anything special to make myself up for dinner so I sit on the edge of the bed to pass the time. I wonder if Haymitch could possible get off the bottle long enough to actually mentor me. If there is some skill I can learn besides painting things and wrestling that will be useful in these games. I am not going to be one of the first picked off, I decide, because I owe it to myself to stay alive. I think of the way my moods swing in and out and I know how the rebellion now started. When things as unfair as this take place, you have the need to take action. To bad there weren't enough pissed off tributes to storm the Capitol, that would throw the whole nation for a loop.

When I'm called to dinner I sit down and promise myself to be a little happier. I can't spend my last few days out of the arena wallowing around because it wouldn't do anything for me once the gong sounds and the Hunger Games actually begin. I think of Katniss again, last week, when I saw her smile. It took all I had not to march over to her outside the school building and make it a point to be the one who made that happiness dance off her face. This is supposed to be my enemy but instead I can only spur on more memories that make it harder to come to grips with things. It's then that she walks in and see the only seat that is vacant is the one next to mine. This is possibly the closest I've ever been to her, an arm length away. I could reach out and touch her arm, possibly offer her some hope in this darkness. I just sit and pick a spot to stare at that isn't her.

"Where is Haymitch?" Effie asks as if the whole day has been a magnificent treat.

"Last time I saw him, he said he was going to take a nap." I say, not as brightly as she had dictated her words.

"Well, It's been an exhausting day." She resolves. I think she's glad to be rid of his presence. Maybe she thinks he'll try to feel her up in his drunken stupor. Doubt it with her wearing that ridiculous wig.

The brightest light to my day is finally revealed. The food is fantastic and I can't help but eating everything in sight. I've lived off of stale bread practically my whole life and it is a welcomed change to eat hot rolls and rich stews. I know I probably shouldn't keep shoveling it all in my mouth with such intensity. I'm just determined to get my fill because food really does seem to lighten my mood. Effie makes some backhanded comment about last year's tribute eating like savages. I stifle a laugh when Katniss takes to eating the rest of her meal with her fingers.I knew Katniss would react to that comment in someway but Effie seems displeased with her behavior. I should join in just to rub it in but I'm not sure how Katniss would take it. I have a sinking suspicion that she believes life of a baker is one of great luxury. I can't say I've faced the fire and torture Katniss does with feeding her family but I know that I'm not eating this every night nor am I eating the best district 12 has to offer either. I know what separates her from me and it's not only Gale. It's because I'm the bakers son and she is among the poor.

After dinner we go to watch the recap and I'm really not as interested as I should be. I keep stealing glances of Katniss out of the corner of my eye. I would love to be able to have a few second alone with her because I have never been afforded the pleasure. I desperately hope I can try the bridge the gap of awkwardness that hangs over us like a blanket willing to suffocate it's user. When our district comes on I can hardly keep my food down. The horror of it all is right in front of my face, a slap taken against my cheek. It's not long before they are also recapping footage of Haymitch taking a nose dive off stage which softens the blow of watching our reaping on TV. Leave it to Haymitch to show up plastered in front of Panem. Effie starts about how Haymitch needs to learn about televised behavior and I just stare back as is she said she wasn't really a human, but instead a purple elephant. Who on earth thinks Haymitch would ever show up sober to these things? Alcohol is like oxygen to him. If the Capitol gave him a swimming pool of alcohol to lay around in it would be the only way he'd learn stage presence. I'm so amused by her comment that I laugh.

"He was drunk. He's drunk every year." I say like it's the most known fact on earth.

"Every day." Katniss adds.

"Yes," Effie says, looking fed up with the whole lot of us. "How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!"

I can see Haymitch stumble in afterward and I immediately know this won't end well. He slurs a little with an attempt at a sentence then vomits and falls into it. I know this is Haymitch but I also know one thing. I won't last five minutes in this thing unless he sobers up a bit.


	3. 3

**3**

**Hey all. If you are reading this story, awesome! I have only one favor to ask. If you like the story please recommend it to others. It's nice to know that people enjoy the work and it gives me something to work for, although I primarily only write for my own pleasure. Thanks again for being a great!**

The dew falls off of my boots, leaving a residue right on the top. I can see it in the distance, what looks to be a bush full of extremely ripe blackberries. It's too good to be true but I can't help my feet from moving forward. The hot sun lays lazy in the sky, making my back burn. I don't stop moving because I am afraid that pausing would render me motionless forever. I know I haven't eaten in days and anything will be welcome so I trudge through the thick under brush with a clear purpose. When I make it into the clearing I realize my mistake. Katniss Everdeen sits quietly on the far edge of the plant, plucking away the fruit for her own fuel source. She lets one linger in her mouth and smiles as the juice flows from her lips and hits her shirt.

I watch silently for a second but I can tell something is already going horribly wrong. Her body is twitching and it takes my last bit of energy to run to her. My knees slam on the ground and I scoop her up into my arms, trying to hold her close, trying to make my body heal her. It's not good enough. After moments of thrashing like trees bending in the wind, her body goes limp. I see what I love the most leave this life and enter into another. I shut down. I feel a stabbing through my heart and realize this is what it feels to lose what you cherish most. This is what it feels like to have a nightmare become reality. It's not until I feel something wet trickle onto my hand that I notice it's not just the pain of love filtering through my veins. I finally realize I have been stabbed in the back.

My eyes crash open, my breath catching as I sit straight up in my bed. I think being on the same train with her is affecting me, making me lose focus of what is really important. I have to figure out a way to keep me alive and in turn return Katniss to district 12. If I can manage it, maybe I'll find a way to make both of us win. I knew the nightmares would come but I'd never imagined that I would find her dead in the very first one. I thought that my restless slumber would be due to images of a pool of blood forming around my body and not holding another's corpse. I looked out the window knowing it had to be well into the night. At this point attempting sleep would be in vain because I already knew what I would find there.

I thought about my family again, mainly my two older brothers. They hadn't taught me much but they were both painfully observant. I think the only reason I started wrestling in school was because of their relentless teasing when it came to my passion of painting. I would work on a batch of cookies, transforming each into something that could be easily found in an endless meadow. My brothers wanted me to engage in more manly activities than sitting on a stool with mutli-colored icing in hand. They wanted me to sweat and survive.

I remember two months back when I had just won a match the previous day. I was surrounded by my rowdy friends, each slapping me on the back and bragging about something they imagined I did. Some girl next to me kept trying to grab my attention, pretending to accidentally brush her hand against mine. She finally got frustrated with me and tried fawning over someone else. I was happy for the sudden lack of attention because I didn't want her to see where my eyes were drawn to.

Katniss entered the lunch room and sat at her usually seat away from the crowd. Her braid hung down her back, kissing both shoulder blades. I was hoping with all the racket at my table she'd look up for once and realize I existed. She never did. It was almost like she was avoiding me and I had no clear reason why. It stung more than a bee marking its territory. It was the one reason why sometimes I could make up my mind about her and instead was at this crossroad. As I was walking home my oldest brother, Luther, could see the confusion layered onto my face. He was probably the only one in my family who I actually told that I had a thing for Katniss, the only one would wouldn't rub it in my face. He said it'd turn out all right but that was his automatic answer for anything that upset me.

When he came to see me after the reaping I could scarcely figure out that he was even in the room. It was only when he stood right in front of me, clasping my hand, that I stopped crying long enough so he could speak.

"Listen Peet. I know it sucks but you can't let it eat at you. You've got to at least try to win this thing okay? I refuse to watch you perform any less than a fighter, I mean we do have to put up with mom on a daily basis and that has to count for something." He quickly spoke. I just nodded my head while catching a few more tear drops on my arm.

"And just tell the girl, okay? Do not go to the grave regretting anything." he finished.

I watched him walk out but couldn't make sense of anything he had said. I was too busy feeling completely hopeless, morning a loss of life that didn't even happen yet.

I know what Luther wants me to do but I can't wrap my head around how to proceed. I need sponsors and that would consist of acting like I generally cared about the audience that was going to enjoy my torture. If I could just get a few seconds to talk to the crowd, I think I could win some favor. My words seemed to get me out of trouble's corners most of the time so I guess trying my luck wouldn't be a bad idea. There was brother's last request to attend to also. He was too right in the fact that eventually I would have to come out and say what I was feeling, but maybe it could help us if I waited. I felt compelled to make sure Katniss was okay suddenly. I couldn't explain it but I knew I would never get back to sleep unless I could confirm to myself that she was still breathing. I slipped out of my compartment, aware that Capitol guards were everywhere. I'd have to have a good excuse for being on her side of the train so they new I wasn't trying to murder her before we even reached our destination.

"Good evening sir, can I help you?" A man said who was about fifty feet from my door. I stood up straight and looked him in the eyes. The best way to lie to a person was to directly talk to them. It made it hard for them to doubt your intentions when you were so direct.

"Yeah I have to return Ms. Everdeen's gloves that she lent me. See my mentor threw up on the floor to the dinning compartment and I had the ugly task of cleaning up after him. She spared my hands of the filth and now that they've been washed I figure i'd just put them in her room before I lose them." I spoke, seeing that he recognized the Haymitch's drunken incident from earlier. I knew he was good for something.

"You could wait until the morning to give them back." The guard finally answered.

"See, I thought that too but she said she needed them in the morning and I had forgotten all about them being with me so I really do have to put them in her room. It'll only take me five minutes. If I'm any longer you can come get me." I tried again, hoping he would be dense enough to let me through. He sighed and moved to the side.

"Five minutes." He muttered as I crossed to her room.

I opened the door with hesitation, hoping she wasn't in her under clothes. I didn't have to step in to know she was asleep because I could hear her rhythm of breathing from the door. She started to whisper something as I stood frozen, hoping that she hadn't caught me snooping. I knew I couldn't lie to her as well as I could most people. She seemed to see through any mask.

"Peeta Mellark." I heard her say and I immediately stopped sort of leaving. She was going to have my throat for coming by to look in on her. I noticed that she was still breathing steadily and to my pleasure saw that she was still fast asleep. I only wondered what dream she could be having of me. I closed the door and couldn't help but slightly laugh. She was probably fantasizing taking me out of the Games early instead of me wrapping my arms around her. It didn't really matter though because I knew we'd work together on getting Haymitch to do something other than drink like a fish.

As I walked back, I could hear foot steps heavy behind me. If it had already been five minutes I could only guess the guard was making sure that I hadn't done anything illegal. Instead a smell wafted to my nose, the stench of spirit covering the air. I spun around to meet my mentor's blood shot eyes and lazy grin.

"Checking out the competition?" he said, stumbling forward.

"Returning something." I said through my teeth.

"You'd do best not to lie." He replied lightly.

"What does it matter to you, it's not like your helping much anyway." I muttered. I knew he wouldn't remember any of this in the morning so I spun on my heel, leaving him fixed to his spot. It was only as I walked away that I realize he was saying more and stopped to actually listen to his chatter.

"You care about her boy but only one is going to win. Although it's probably neither of you." He mused. It took all I had not to go back and confront him but I just walked away.


	4. 4

**4**

I sat on the ground looking up at my attacker. My jaw was throbbing, a bruise no doubt making it's way to the surface of my skin. I could smell the stench of wine sinking into the plush carpet of the dining car and I begin to smirk. My able hands had carried out what other people have only dreamt of before. Although Haymitch had flattened me on the ground within a second, I hit him in the heart by shattering that glass. Maybe he'd begin to understand me.

Katniss's knife is wedged in the table. It barely missed Haymitch's fingers as he reached to pour himself another glass of drink. I couldn't tell if she was defending me or if she was coming to the same realization I did only moments before. Being exceedingly kind wasn't going to work in most instances but for me I knew I could only challenge someone before I receded into my old habits. I wasn't going to be the person who would harm someone to get my way, I wasn't going to put the nail in someone's coffin until it came time to ensure Katniss and I survived.

"Well, What's this? Did I actually get a pair of fighter's this year?" Haymitch says, surprise padding his words.

I rise from the floor, the statement hanging over me like a dense fog. Is he actually meaning to tell us that no other tribute has even looked like they wanted to survive this thing? I could understand their doubts. District 12 had many people who couldn't afford to put a meal on their family's plate and we weren't trained assassins but hadn't there been someone who wanted to come home? Didn't they value their life enough to stand up for themselves? I could see where my own assumptions were ladled with contradictions. I knew that I was putting Katniss above my own life at this very second somewhere in my subconscious. Maybe the things that went trough a tributes head weren't painted or outlined in just black and white. My hand dips into the fruit tureen, scooping up ice for my jaw. As I start to put my hand near my face Haymitch's eyes find mine, stopping me short of trying to heal my face.

"No, let the bruise show. The audience will think you've mixed it up with another tribute before you've even made it to the arena." He advises. I'm starting to lose faith in my mentor before he has really started to say anything worth while. I know we have his attention but the fact that he is already telling me to break the Capitol's rules makes me wonder if taking the blow to the jaw was just a stupid waste of my time. Maybe I should have been planning on how to find someone else with better advice instead of worrying about how to make Haymitch work for my cause.

"That's against the rules." I say, as if I'm trying to convince him that this will only work to my disadvantage.

"Only if they catch you. That bruise will say you fought, you weren't caught, even better." He assures me and then turns to Katniss. "Can you hit anything with that knife besides a table?"

Katniss sits there for a second like she is pondering what to do next. Her hand rests on the knife before she yanks it out of it's old resting spot. I can see the determination on her face but it seems to be also mixed with doubt. It's like she doesn't know whether to take a chance and show that she could probably take out half the tributes with her hunting skills or if she should just lay her weapon down. She let's out a puff of air and sinks the knife in between the panels on the wall. I honestly can't take my eyes off of where she so effortlessly wounded the wall, confirming that she was ten times better off than I was in this competition.

"Stand over here. Both of you." Haymitch directs. I don't like the way he's sizing me up as if he were going to the Captiol to sell me for money to support his habit. He keeps poking at my arm, checking how stiff the muscles are there, seeing if my stocky build is a mirror of physical fitness or from a past time of eating. He finally stops in front of us once he is done with his assessment, looking a bit pleased.

"Well, you're not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get hold of you, you'll be attractive enough." He states.

I still stand in silence knowing full well that at any moment the wrong comment could send Haymitch stumbling off without even a second glance back at the two of us. He is actually considering helping us, a feat I didn't think was possible yesterday. I didn't care if once I got to the Captiol the stylist would pick me apart and put me back together in one shiny piece. If it put me in better standing, I would be willing to keep my mouth closed and let them dress me up like a doll.

"All right, I'll make a deal with you. You don't interfere with my drinking and I'll stay sober enough to help you, but you will have to do exactly what I say?" He says as he lays out his terms. This could end badly but my options are slim. It's not like I could barrow another district's mentor to do the job and Haymitch is a victor for a reason. I know I'll just have to bear with him until I can think on my own.

"Fine," I say.

Katniss doesn't waste time jumping on the task of asking specifics about the games. She starts about the cornucopia but Haymitch puts up his hand to try to stop her flood of inquiries.

"One thing at a time. In a few minutes, we'll be pulling up into the station. You'll be put in the hands of your stylists. You're not going to like what they do to you, but no matter what it is, don't resist. Haymitch says. Katniss tries to speak again but he only repeats himself slightly and grabs his drink so he can leave.

The whole encounter with Haymitch has still gotten me a little confused. He is willing to help us, I can see that, but I wonder why he didn't bring up what he saw me doing last night, to see if Katniss knew. This morning when I first came to breakfast I could hardly suppress my embarrassment and he caught on quickly. I was sure after sometime he would have joked about it but instead he ignored that we'd even were occupying the same space. Maybe it was his repayment for me cleaning him up. I realize we are traveling in a tunnel just seconds before it ends. I know what I will face when I look out of the window but I still go anyway just to make sure what I have grown up watching on television is a reality.

Everyone in the city looks nothing like an actual human. I wonder who thought it was a good idea to make themselves look so outlandish, to become people who look to be wearing costumes every day of the week. The stores look too rich for my eyes or taste. I could never imagine myself strolling around the streets of this city because I know I would never belong. People already are making a fuss about our train and Katniss steps back at the recognition. I know I can't do that because if they see me as an alien or a threat, they will never be sympathetic or willing to come to my aid, to Katniss's aid. I need them to feed out of my hand and even though they are planning on watching me die, I can't help but feel like some of these people aren't monsters. I wave and smile as if this is the most exciting thing I've even done in my life, mustering happiness somewhere from the depths of my body. I know Katniss is analyzing me, trying to figure out my motives but I can't be worried what she interprets right now. Once we pull into the station I look back at her and try to seem indifferent.

"Who knows. One of them maybe rich." I say. I need her to be more willing to put on a good show to save herself but I know that with me feeding into the public's wonder and enthusiasm instead of backing down only seems to be pushing her farther away from me. I'll have to take her distance. In the long run I know what I am working toward and she will know soon enough too. I know that it has come time for me to let go of what I've been hiding for years.

Once the train stops, we are split up without saying another word to each other. Her eyes didn't look like they trusted me when I left her, instead it looked as if she were trying to find a way to hate me. It would do me no good to keep thinking about ways to charm her and keep up with my plans to keep us alive so I just leave it alone. I'm taken to the remake center where they just strip me of my clothes without a single word. I in a tub, naked, as people are trying to force scented soaps onto my body. It bothers me that there are women standing around viewing all I have to offer to the world but I also am conscious of Haymitch's advice to keep my mouth shut. I just let them do their job and try to keep some dignity for myself.

My stylist enters after my prep team is done talking about my body like I'm not even there. They one girl was commenting on my toned arms and I couldn't help but blush a little at her breathy complement. I've never had a girlfriend, not that I didn't have people who were interested. I couldn't make myself seek company of someone who I knew I wouldn't have intense feelings for. The one time I spent time with a girl named Honey, her hair so golden that it practically lit up in the sun's companionship. She talked to me about my bakery and things she thought I was interested in but never revealed her true self. Every time I did steal a look at her a face would literally block my eyes from seeing her properly. I could not force back the name of the girl who I wished I was spending time with off of my lips. I gave up on trying to find someone after that.

I knew if the reaping never happened I would probably have gotten over Katniss like my father moved on from her mother, but if I were destined to end up with someone like my mother, I was better off to just die in the arena. I knew my father wasn't happy and no one in the family cared too much for the other. It wasn't the kind of family I wanted to have when I was on my own. Being sixteen doesn't give you much of a life to reflect on but I knew what my future wasn't going to be. I currently didn't have much of one but I knew being miserable shouldn't be at the top of my card pile.

My stylist, Portia, introduces herself and we eat lunch as she begins to describe my costume for the opening ceremonies. The fact the the word fire and on me have just occurred in the same sentence makes me think that Haymitch may need to rethink our strategy of being complacent with all of stylist's whims. I am not about to burn alive before I even step foot on that little platform that projects me into the Arena.

"I don't mean to interrupt but did you just say you're going to light me on fire?" I say, fusing my words with a light tone to hide my fear. She just laughs and sets down her cup, looking extremely confident with herself.

"If you think I'm going to press the lighter to your skin then no I'm not actually lighting you on fire. It's fake flames, it won't endanger you at all. Think of it as a piece of jewelry." She offers.

"Flames...as jewelry. Got it. So if something does go wrong and I find myself ablaze, got any tips?" I keep joking, hoping that she will in turn say he costume idea is a joke.

"Hop off of the cart and roll on the ground." She says simply.

Time rolls on and I find myself dressed in the not so much of a joke costume. I see the cape and wonder if I'll have enough time to pull it off before they can replace it on my back or before I become a human torch. I've had my fair share of dances with a fire but I've never stuffed myself into our brick oven at home to see how much I was immune to fire and it's torture. Obviously the Capitol people are not too worried about safety hazards they are imposing on us tributes. I see Katniss and the way she looks equally as frightened by our stylist's choice of wardrobe for us. It's when I see her stylist face that looks like someone robbed him of happiness that I want to turn and run. I don't have the time to ponder my choices because they are placing me and Katniss on the chariot and making us into their private statues.

"What do you think? About the fire?" Katniss asks. I have a lot of not so pleasant thoughts, that's for sure.

"I'll rip off your cape if you'll rip off mine," I say though my teeth.

"Deal." She agrees.

"I know we promised Haymitch we'd do exactly what they said, but I don't think he considered this angle." Katniss says. Well, I think he knew they would do something along these lines because he was very adamant on making us understand we are not to argue one bit. He should have given us some warning that these people were deranged so I knew how to prepare before I met them.

"Where is Haymitch, anyway? Isn't he supposed to be protecting us from this sort of thing?" I say, hoping he'd turn up soon before I was rolling around on the ground trying to save myself from being roasted like the squirrel meat I had last week for dinner.

"With all that alcohol in him, it's probably not advisable to have him around an open flame.

I laugh because at this moment it's the only way to keep myself sane. If Haymitch were here he'd probably combust and then we'd have no one to help us work around the death situation. What did they do for districts that didn't have mentors anyway? Did they just decide they couldn't have any help? Katniss's stylist is soon coming up to us with torch in hand, lighting the costumes on fire. He breaths a sigh of relief and tells us they are going to love us. I see his next idea as he gestures and shouts and I can immediately feel my stomach drop. He wants me to hold her hand, to touch her skin, and I can't even remember I'm on fire.

"What's he saying?" Katniss asks and it is then when I take the magnitude of her beauty in. Her signature braid is hanging in place, her lips parted in their usually way as if they could possibly be inviting you to touch them. I see her still waiting for my response so I swallow and look into her eyes.

"I think he said for us to hold hands." I say and take her hand in mine. I now know I will not have to put on a show for these people to look dazzling, strong, and happy because finally, since the reaping, I am.


	5. 5

***Sorry about the super long wait. School has been very taxing lately but I have managed to slip in some time to write...**

**5**

The opening ceremonies were too much. As we finally pulled away from the crowd I let out a sigh. The smiling and waving, I think, has been good for us. For the first time Katniss has decided to play along which can only help bring us sponsors. The crowd loved us. If I were back in district 12 I know that things would be entirely different. I would still be the boy who stood by the door in the evenings, catching a glimpse of the hunter and her prey. I would still be baking.

You would think the family business was a chore for me, but honestly it was my only way to exist. Kneading the dough, handling the special orders, letting the fire lick my palms, that was me. That is what made me solid. My personality, the qualities I like to think were good, I wanted to hold on to. I know I would never show the whole world that when something frustrated me I was out in the streets picking a fight. They would never see I was creating some new bread behind my mother's back to manage my frustration, my anger, my pain. The game makers would not count my creativity as a strength. They'd twist it into making me seem like an easy target. I didn't care if I looked weak. If everyone thought I was going to become a lunatic they were sadly mistaken. My thoughts, feelings, and persona were all I had left.

Back at home it was the same way. My artistic abilities were never praised, only utilized to help our bakery. Every dinner conversation felt forced once I grew up, once me and my brother's realized we couldn't all have the bakery to share. Luther was the only one I was friendly with but even our relationship only ran so deep. The family and I had worked because we existed. We learned what buttons not to push early on, when to be happy and when it was best to show no emotion at all. Only my father ever seemed inclined to show sensitivity so I took his example and made it my own.

Our fires are extinguished and I realize I'm still holding onto Katniss. With the intensity of the Captiol I didn't realize that through it all she had held me on the cart instead of letting me fade into the distance. She let's go and I flex the muscles in my hand, knowing that there was never a time I thought her grasp was too tight. I was sturdy enough not to care and my flesh and bones had been subjected to a lot worse. I know that when I asked her to keep hold of me, part of my words weren't honest. I think I could have stayed on that cart without her fingers laced between mine. I just wanted her to keep holding on so bad that I lied easily. I hated to think that I'd have to be doing that more often than not.

"Thanks for keeping hold of me. I was getting a little shaky there." I say, making sure my tone was even and innocent. If she could see through the lie she wouldn't trust me even if it were something as harmless as hand holding. Katniss didn't put her faith in many, I could see that clearly.

"It didn't show. I'm sure no one notice." She reassures me. No one probably noticed because I'm sure I did stop shaking. I decide that standing there and staring at her probably isn't the best way to start our relationship. Lying isn't great either but I don't have a choice. Maybe one day I'll have to let her know that more than being scared I just wanted to be close to her, because before I went to my death I needed to know she was real and not one of my fantasies.

"I'm sure they didn't notice anything but you. You should wear flames more often," I say. The whole time we were in the parade I was scanning the screens to catch a glimpse of her. "They suit you."

She is silent for a brief second than tilts her head upward, looking at me for only a moment. Before I can say anything else she kisses me right on my bruise. I can't say I'm too ecstatic with her show of affection. Her lips were soft, almost inviting me to turn my head, but the placement was all wrong. She was sending me a message that she wasn't confident in being close to me, she wasn't going to let a friendship form in these circumstances. She was going to fight me until the very end, until she would win her life. I don't let any emotions betray me by displaying themselves across my face. The Peeta I was right now needed to layout some kind of foundation and ignore Katniss. That was the new plan. I was going to play along with this little distrust that she had planted into her mind. I was going to let Katniss call the shots while I plot.

We ride the elevator back up to our floor while Effie explains how brilliant she has been in assisting us today. I can't help but think of the enjoyment she is getting out of this experience while I barely scrape by a decent smile. It's the way they grew up, I know it isn't my place to judge any of them, but I'm only human. She's been watching this program since she could walk. She has witnessed the demise of others and has alined herself with the Capitol in a way she doesn't understand. To everyone in the districts she is less valuable than dirt. I, however, can't see her this way. I would have been different if I were the baker's son in the Capitol. I would have been thirsty for the Games, I would have relished in other's pain. I wouldn't be Peeta, I'd be some other child, privileged and decorated.

I look over at Katniss, the way her body is edged away from mine, her expressions at Effie's behavior very forced. I know she'd finding it hard to hate her because she sees the same thing I do, a living being. I think this is my explanation to myself for allowing myself to become attached to the girl with the braid hanging down her back. I see the same qualities between us even though our personalities are rooted in different spots. I know I am biased because I could find a dozen ways to spin everything to make it seem like she's perfect but right now I only see the truth.

The truth. It's sweet like the juice of a berry resting on your lips, but it can become poison and spread through your veins. Saying things that are not fictional are always laced with consequences. It's like stumbling trough a maze. You hope if you turn in a few directions you'll end up somewhere, you hope that something could reach you and whispered the directions to the light in your ear. I've had my share of things I wish I wouldn't have said.

We make it up to our new home for the next few days. The gigantic windows and couches gnarled into shapes I cannot begin to decipher, line the massive space. I let my hand run along the mantle on the fire place as Effie points out the way to my room. Within seconds I'm through the door and my body meets the bed. I remember last week so well that even now I can taste the squirrel meat resting on my tongue. My only good friend Sam met me at the edge of the seam just so we could talk, just so we could toss around weights to flush out the infectious parts of the day. The only thing we could think about was the reaping, the slip of paper and the odds never being in anyone's favor. Sam threw the last weight into the field and sat down on the dirt road. He didn't seem to be awake but the sudden twitch of his head let me know he was still very much alert. I could remember looking at the trees, looking at how they bent into the unknown so invitingly that your feet slipped up and followed the path out. It took me a minute to step back and realize there was no life outside these prison walls, no better of a future than dying at the Capitol's hand.

"You know, I think that girl Delly has a thing for you." Sam announced, his eyebrow raising as he looked up at me.

"She's not really my type."

"Peeta no one is your type. I'm starting to think you want to just end up alone."

"Maybe." I mutter.

"It wouldn't be so bad you know...getting picked." Sam said, almost to himself.

"That's crazy. It's the worst thing that could happen."

"Is it Peeta? We are miserable here. Don't tell me you are completely happy in this place. If you or I were picked, we may not win but we wouldn't be here anymore. If I didn't care about my family so much then I would volunteer."

"I could never volunteer Sam. It's like saying you'd volunteer to go murder someone. I'd only go if I was picked in the reaping. It is the only way I could justify taking someone else's life." I say, sitting down beside him.

"If Katniss got picked, what would you do?" Sam asks me after a moment of silence. It's like he has just smacked me across the face. I know he sees me watching her but he never brings her up in a conversation. It's like we have this code. If we know it is a sensitive subject, it rests unspoken. I wish he hadn't broken our code and I wish he could take back that suggestion. I've thought about it before, what I would do if I had to watch her walk to her death. I don't think I would volunteer next to her but i'm pretty sure seeing that would feel like a stab to the chest. It wouldn't be a relief or an opportunity to move past her and see the faces and beauty within a different girl. I would always see her sister and mother, always see what had been ripped from them. I couldn't live in peace. I know I would take care of them for her, in my own way. My mother would just have more opportunities to detest me.

"I wouldn't be able to think." I finally come up with. Sam looks disappointed in my answer. He looks back down at the dirt and pushes it aside with his hands.

"You'd just have to get over her then, wouldn't you? Peeta, I swear you are crazy. I will never understand that one thing about you."

I smile for the first time today. I couldn't even understand myself. I was only sixteen yet I was holding this girl in my heart like we had been married for twenty years then became estranged. It was how intense she was, I just liked it too much.

"Me either Sam. Oh and about Delly, she is like that with everyone. She's just nice so leave her alone...or else I'll throw this weight at you. Got it?"

"Yes Mr. Mellark. Wouldn't want that now, would we?"

I come back to reality and look at the room that is surrounding me. Here in the Capitol, the what ifs are no longer just possibilities. I don't have to wonder anymore who will be picked each year. There will be no more getting dressed up to stand in a line for the slaughter house, no more drunk Haymitch to stumble and create embarrassment. It is here, for the first time, I am really starting to think about the situation more clearly. If I could make it out, I'm not sure how life would be but I'm almost positive I will never find out.


	6. 6

**6**

I walk up to the roof with Cinna, not bothering to think about the Games anymore. It's pointless really, all of the wallowing in self pity I've been doing for the last few hours. It's nice to have someone to talk to, to be around real people who I think may actually care about me. Cinna just has that demeanor, like if he could he would replace you, he'd try to save you. We stop at the balcony, the whole city packed densely together like points on a map. I take one look down, the street miles away from my current position. If a tribute got desperate enough they could just take a leap, perish without the suffering.

"You would think they wouldn't let us up here. Tributes might get some funny ideas about jumping." I say to Cinna. He laughs like it was a joke, that no one would possibly take their life into their own hands. Technically the kids from districts one and two do it every year they volunteer.

"They've got it protected. A force field just throws you back onto the roof. They wouldn't take any chances of weeding out their entertainment. How did you like the costume?" Cinna asks. I'm glad he does because it is the first time I can offer him praise for giving me a better chance at this show, a possibility that someone might recognize me later on while I'm starving and want to send me food. It was genius and I was wrong to assume that both he and Portia should be carted to the nearest mental hospital.

"It was perfect. The hand holding suggestion was brilliant too." I say throwing him a smile. Portia finds us quickly and takes her spot next to Cinna, both of them looking extremely pleased with themselves. I can detect something else riding on the wind, the scent of sorrow building up like mounds of sand collecting on a beach. I look at them, taking in their faces for memory. I am fond of the both of them even though we have only known each other for less than a day I feel this sense of underlying understanding.

"Anything we can do to help, Peeta. We do not wish this on anyone." Portia finally says. She must have heard me telling Cinna how happy I was with the scene the costumes created. She seemed to be speaking the words he wanted to say, communicating the subjects that might be too intense to explore before dinner.

"Thank you." I respond.

We make it back down the steps and onto the balcony. Cinna asks about what I like to do in my spare time and it surprises him when I say I love to paint. If I had a chance at picking up a brush right now, I'd steal time away in my room to just capture it all. The sounds of the crowd, the way the light of the flame danced off Katniss's eyes, Portia's firm but gentle stance while she worked, and Cinna's warm heart pouring out into the clothes we adorned. I could work it out in my head. I could see the colors I would use as my devices create the landscape of what was keeping me from screaming. Katniss is near before I can even register it, which means dinner is to be served. Haymitch shows up looking more like a man than a hobo which is a huge improvement on his part. He face isn't as flushed and that stupid look of a raging lunatic is no longer plastered to his face. I like sober Haymitch but I have to admit when he's staggering about with a cup glued to his hand it makes a good laugh effortless to muster.

Katniss is looking at the Avox who is serving us intensely. I keep noticing it through the beginning of dinner, the way she can't focus on the conversations at hand for too long without zoning into a different world entirely from our own. It can't be good if she recognizes her because someone might think she is some sort of traitor to the Capitol too. I pray she keeps her thoughts to herself but that's not in Katniss's nature. When she finally announces to the table that the girl is familiar, I do not gasp like the others. Instead I find a way to dig her out of the hole she has just created for herself. Delly. I was just thinking about her earlier. If I could just get Katniss to follow what I intend it will be easy enough to have this overlooked. Hopefully I'm not throwing things out here in vain.

"Delly Cartwright. That's who it is. I kept thinking she looked familiar as well. Then I realized she's a dead ringer for Delly." I say, looking at the Avox and quickly taking as much interest as Katniss was previously in the girl.

"Of course, that's who I was thinking of. It must be the hair." She replies, taking my charity. I almost breathe a sigh of relief but I know the others will be watching to make sure we aren't both coming up with a little white lie.

"Something about the eyes, too." I finish for good measure.

We don't talk about the girl anymore but I feel for some reason that we both just dodged a bullet. Once Haymitch dismisses us from the sitting room we entered in after dinner, I find myself walking along side Katniss to our rooms alone. I would love to know how she could possibly know an avox. Maybe I misjudged her character all these years. She may be family oriented but all of her actions could have bared more meaning than survival and the love for a sister or mother. Those trips to the woods could have housed activities other than being a fearless hunter, I mean, she was already breaking the law every week to supply her dinner table with something better than half a bag of grain from the Capitol.

"So, Delly Cartwright. Imagine finding her look alike here." I say. There doesn't need to be lies between the two of us. If I am going to cover for her I needed to know the type of thing I'm walking into. The comments that everyone thinks I craft effortlessly can also burry me if I am not extremely careful. I need her to want to put some faith in my hands, give me another reason to look ahead and keep my chin up above the rest. She hesitates and I cannot blame her. Speaking right here would be dangerous. I'm sure the Capitol has got this placed bugged. Portia and Cinna would only express the severe regret at our situation while we were away from the world on looking down at the city from afar...where the wind basically erased your words from the air...

"Have you been on the roof yet? Cinna showed me. You can practically see the whole city. The wind's a bit loud though." I suggest. She understands, I can see the information sink into her head like butter melts into bread.

"Can we just go up?" She asks innocently.

"Sure, come on." I say.

She follows me up to the roof, the night still chaotic on the streets below. It's the first real time I feel like I might get more than a faint acknowledgment of my presence, the first time we won't be tributes but just friends. It's because I've shown her something. It's more than my quick instincts and smooth words. I wanted her to know we were in this together as friends, not enemies. I walk with her over to the edge of the roof. Her eyes pinpoint the celebrations below, the infinite buzz of voices and the sweet breathe of life. I feel her longing, the same longing that was pulling at me before.

"I asked Cinna why they let us up here. Weren't they worried some of the tributes might decide to jump right over the side?" I say almost to myself.

"What'd he say?" she's asked.

"You can't." I hold my hand over enough to feel the zap, the electrical shock that courses through my veins and I jerk back. It's a wonder to me how alive I felt in that moment, that the sensation of the sting has reawaken me. I don't want to be complacent like I was before. I wanted to take charge, I wanted to kiss her. I wouldn't do it though. I was raised like a gentleman, not some groveling creep.

"Some kind of electric field throws you back on the roof." I finish before I either stick my hand back out there or do something I'd regret immensely.

"Always worried about our safety." She responds with a distaste. I shrug my shoulders.

"Maybe. Come see the Garden." I say. If you flung yourself over that roof, you'd probably die of a heart attack from the shock. Unless they fixed you good enough to still participate, just patch you up long enough to have you slashed in half by someone's sword. Yeah that sounded like the Capitol. Throw you in for a cheap thrill of a kill. I walk over to the spot between the potted plants where the wind chimes kissed the breeze. I wanted to lay here, just for a while. It was a bit chilly but I don't think I would have cared. It would be nice to feel like I was sort of at home, among items that weren't contorted in some off the wall fashion. She's quiet and turns her attention to a flower. Her hands are soft when she lifts them and I think about earlier how I had held them. I was going to drive myself insane.

"We were hunting in the woods one day. Hidden, waiting for game." She says softly, a whisper I am only able to barely catch.

"You and your father?" I assume too quickly.

"No, My friend Gale. Suddenly all the birds stopped singing at once. Except one. As if it were giving a warning call. And then we saw her. I'm sure it was the same girl. A boy was with her. Their clothes were tattered. They had dark circles under their eyes from no sleep. They were running as if their lives depended on it."

She get's quiet and thoughtful. I wonder if she has ever thought of this, running into the sunset without one glance back at anyone. I've thought about it once when I couldn't stand to be with my family for another second. I wouldn't last like her. I wouldn't make it more than a few steps without doing something to compromise myself.

"The hovercraft appeared out of nowhere." She continues. "I mean, one moment the sky was empty and the next it was there. It didn't make a sound, but they saw it. A net dropped down on the girl and carried her up, fast, so fast like an elevator. They shot some kind of spear through the boy. It was attached to a cable and they hauled him up as well. But I'm certain he was dead. We heard the girl scream once. The boy's name, I think. Then it was gone, the hovercraft. Vanished into thin air. And birds began to sing again, as if nothing had happened." she finishes. I'm hoping they didn't see here, the Capitol. They could have though. Her sister couldn't have been in that bowl more than once and I'm almost positive that Katniss would have never let her sister enter her name repeatedly for more food. It could have been fixed to punish her. Anything was possible at the hand of those monsters.

"Did they see you?" I finally asked.

"I don't know, We were under a shelf of rock." She replies. She starts to shake and I remove my coat, placing it around her shoulders. I like the look of it on her. Even though it's not my own piece of clothing, it's like she is accepting a small piece of me. She doesn't give it back so I take it as a sign that she hasn't completely written me off. I swear I sigh briefly from relief because I want to spend these last few days getting to know the girl I've only dreamt about.

"They were from here?" I ask, thinking back to those people who would be so adamantly trying to get away. My hands lift to the jacket and fasten a button, lingering near her neck, longing to just let my fingers rest there. She just nods and watches me closely, like I'm the one who is a mystery, like all of my feelings aren't in plain sight. I wonder if she is catching on, my eagerness to come to her aid, my eyes always falling on her with a great amount of clumsiness. I don't think she is though and for that I am slightly grateful.

"Where do you suppose they were going?" I continue.

"I don't know that. Or why they would leave here." She says back. She takes life in the Capitol at face value, I can see that clearly now. The world she has been show, its artificial smiles and painted on perfection has temporarily blinded her. If they could treat the district like barbarians, I could bet anything they would torture their people here. It's not glorified, probably hushed behind doors that no one is expected to open. I know nothing it as it seems, I know that too well.

"I'd leave here." I let slip out. I realize my mistake quickly, the aversion to this place thick in my mind. I laugh to cover it up. I have to end our heart to heart before I get us in some kind of mess I can't clean up. "I'd go home now if they let me. But you have to admit, the food's prime." I add to blanket my error. I don't want to be out here anymore. I don't want to keep juggling our fates in my hands. She shivers a little more under my coat and I know I must reel us back into an authentic existence.

"It's getting chilly. We better go in," I suggest. She follows me in and I try to keep the ease between us, try to keep creating a conversation.

"Your friend Gale. He's the one who took your sister away at the reaping?" I know that they are close and I don't know why I am doing this to myself but I can't help it. I guess I'm still expecting this whole thing to be a horrible nightmare, that I'll wake up and be in my room, be the old Peeta in district twelve.

"Yes. Do you know him?" she asks. Of course I don't though. He wouldn't have liked me very much.

"Not really. I hear the girls talk about him a lot. I thought he was your cousin or something. You favor each other," I admit. Maybe I had no reason to be jealous of him at all, but I highly doubt her return response will make me feel any better.

"No, we're not related." She says quickly. I nod, confirming that all of my suspicions were oddly correct, confirming I never stood a chance.

"Did he come to say good-bye to you?" I keep on. It's really torture, what I'm doing. If he did come that meant they were extremely close and possibly already interested in each other. What was I going to gain from this information? There was no piece of mind, just the disappointment in another thing I've lost.

"Yes. So did your father. He brought me cookies."

He never mentioned seeing her, my father. I'm surprised at his boldness and if my mother ever found out she'd shriek about it for weeks. After all these years he still loved her mother. He was in pain for his youngest son being thrown into these circumstances when we said goodbye and he was in pain for the woman he longed to comfort. I was like him, strong, steady, and blindly following after a girl who would only disappoint me. A girl who would marry a miner.

"Really? Well, he likes you and your sister. I think he wishes he had a daughter instead of a houseful of boys." I say indifferently. He wishes more than that, I think to myself. Her face crumbles slightly and I see her blush, as if I've said something to embarrass her. I like that, the curl of her lip and the color rushing to her face. It's cute and more attractive than she'd ever know.

"He knew your mother when they were kids." I add for a bit of an explanation. She doesn't say much but returns my jacket once we are at her bedroom door. She disappears into where she will rest her head and as I finish my journey, thoughts are attacking me at every second. My father and I have talked a lot about personal things concerning those girls from the seam. It's driven us apart, our own mortification at being so helpless in their gaze. I know one thing for certain as I turn out the lights to my room. There will only be one girl in my dreams and nightmare from now on, it will only be the girl on fire.


	7. 7

**I can't seem to explain why I haven't written in months other than I couldn't seem to get past my writers block. So I put fanfiction away for a while and came back to it, only to have much more material than I could imagine floating in my head. So I will be actively writing to bring this story back to the place where I want it to be. Thank you for being patient.**

**7**

The trees seem odd. As the leaves crunch underneath my shoes, I can't help but think something is wrong. There is a piece of this painting missing, a brush stroke that hasn't been added yet. It's cold and quiet which is the universal sign of danger. I dig my hands into my pocket and only turn up with a piece of rope and a few stray berries. I'm calculating the chances I'll have against someone who finds me, if I could snap their neck with my bare hands. There's a crack, a disturbance in the wind that sends my body reeling around. I see her come out from behind a rock, her eyes positioned at my heart, her bow strung with its arrow.

"Katniss. Do it before someone else does." I ask even though I barely can understand what I'm even pleading for. I rather die at the hands of a familiar face, A quick blow with no suffering. Her head tilts to the side trying to register the words I have spoken. Her weapon lowers and she shakes her head, turning to leave me behind.

"I won't do that." She says as she walks further from my view. I'm losing time and there has been too many opportunities I have ignored. I should have just said it but I was a coward. She is like smoke, the way her body weaves in and out of the trees. In a few seconds I will lose the last chance I have at lifting this weight off of my body, one last shot at piece of mind.

"Katniss, I love you." I spill out. She turns instantly but It is too late for her to come running into my arms. I feel the sword cut me deep, and death shades my eyes from the light.

I wake up quickly, kicking the sheets off of my legs. My hand drifts down to my body, feeling for some kind of wound where my dream had indicated a fatal blow. There is nothing but the feel of soft cotton against my palm and I let out a deep sigh. I can't do this much more, the restless nights before the Arena. No matter how much I detest the idea, I think I have to keep my distance today from Katniss. I need to have a moment where I can decide what I need to do to keep myself happy before I'm thrown into the worst possible predicament ever, I need to sleep deeply before I'm forced to keep one eye open.

I decided to take a shower, standing in the water and letting it slink off of my body. The muscles in my limbs roll slightly, relaxing from their tense permanent position since reaping day. I wonder how breakfast will go, if the unspoken awkwardness between the two district twelve tributes has somehow dissolved. I may have gotten a peak into Katniss's life last night, but I was almost certain I wasn't getting much more than that. It was frustrating being here, battling with my emotions and whether I should be close to the girl I would love to spend millions of days with, just learning about her. It is what fuels my dreams, my constant craving and the notion that what could have been will never really come to unfold.

Back at home I would have woken up early to get to the bakery before school today. I would have kneaded twelve batches of dough to be placed in the oven, decorated fifty cookies for the display case. My arms would be relieved when I placed the tenth bag of flour into the stock room and I'd leave to spend a few hours with kids my age, supposedly learning. Back at home would have still been a jail because life wasn't meant to be easy for anyone under the Captiol's control. I am ashamed to say that Sam's insane proposal to enter in the games as a volunteer to escape the havoc in the districts might not have been too far off the mark. At least I know what my future looks like now as opposed to being unsure of what hole I was going to fall down, where would my place be in the coal warehouse of the country come from.

Once I'm finally dressed, I leave my room. I only get two steps away from my door before I see Haymitch hovering in the hallway, some half smirk planted on his lips. I still know what hangs between us, being caught red handed watching over Katniss, observing her and tampering with her privacy. I try to walk around him but his leg extends to block my way. It makes anger surge through my veins, like hot water pouring from the faucet. I stop short and stare at him, expecting more than his little demeaning stare.

"What's between you and that girl?" Haymitch asks bluntly.

"Isn't obvious? She hates me and I hate her. End of story." I reply sarcastically.

"Listen you, In order to save your ass I need to know what I am dealing with. If you two have something going on I need to know about that would effect you in the games at all, it needs to be said. I'm voting you as the responsible kid so out with it."

"Nothing is going on. We know each other because we are the same age and nothing else. If anything were to be going on I could definitely inform you that it would be an entirely lop-sided friendship." I breathe. Its too much of the truth for the morning, too much stabbing in the chest. Haymitch seems satisfied and lets me go around him and follows close behind. Lop-sided. The word has rubbed me the wrong way. We could be friends now, it wouldn't be complicated to have human interaction with someone who completely understood your situation. She won't allow it to go that far. I don't understand why it is so hard for her to show me more than an hour of appreciation or kindness. I can't seem to wrap my brain around how every conversation is over analyzed and forced on her part. I just want her to look at me for one second as Peeta and not the boy who she'll have to beat.

Katniss looks stunning, pinned with the capitol's craft with fabric, a sewing needle, and thread. She doesn't look extremely pleased but she never has been the type to go on smiling without an extremely important cause. I fill my plate for breakfast and resolve to eating in silence. There is nothing to talk about, no common ground I can breach with the two of them without a sour face and a grunt of disapproval. Finally Haymitch signals his completion of the meal by taking a long drag on his flask, something I frequently have to stop myself from knocking out of his hand. I made a deal through and my word is absolute.

"So, let's get down to business. Training. First off, if you like, I'll coach you separately. Decide now." He announces.

"Why would you coach us separately?" Katniss asks.

"Say if you had a secret skill you might not want the other to know about," Haymitch explains. She seems to consider this but looks at me for conformation, like I would be the one to finalize the decision. What would be my secret skill? I guess if you count persuasion that could be it but I doubt any kid would stop a knife from running along my throat because I said I liked his boots. Nope, nothing deadly about me.

"I don't have any secret skills," I say "And I already know what yours is, right? I mean, I've eaten enough of your squirrels." It not just because I've eaten her squirrels that I know she is handy with a bow, It's because I've paid attention to her much more than I should have.

"You can coach us together." She affirms and I nod as if to solidify her statement.

"All right, so give me some idea of what you can do." Haymitch asks expectantly. I really am lost for words at this point. I could change the conversation over to survival needs just so I wouldn't have to discover how pathetic I really am, but Katniss needs to learn something about honing her skills. Looking particularly useless doesn't hurt me, I guess. Not if it stems from the truth.

"I can't do anything. Unless you count baking bread." I say finally.

"Sorry I don't. Katniss, I already know you're handy with a knife." He responds, turning his attention to her.

"Not really, but I can hunt, With a bow and arrow." Katniss reveals to him.

"And you're good?" asks Haymitch.

She stops as if to doubt herself, like she might lie and tell him otherwise. He could help her if she just stop putting up walls, if she just thought for one second that this charity wasn't something to be frown upon. She was so independent that she couldn't see past doing everything herself.

"I'm all right." She answers. I guess I will have to be the one to talk her up, the one who makes an effort to get help for her sake.

"She's excellent. My father buys her squirrels. He always comments on how the arrows never pierce the body. She hits every one in the eye. It's the same with the rabbits she sells at the butcher. She can even bring down a deer." I explain for her.

I feel like I have said too much. I don't think she knows how much I have kept up with her but now it is pretty obvious that I have had some weird note taking on her life, on her skills. Haymitch looks at me for a second, a glance he knows only I would catch. He knows that it's just me, that I am the one that carries the baggage between Katniss and I. I don't care if I humiliate myself by practically spilling out everything I have collected about her if it gets one of us home to district twelve.

"What are you doing?" she sort of snaps.

"What are you doing? If heris going to help you, he has to know what you're capable of. Don't underrate yourself." I say as if I am passing her the baton, like she can continue to discuss her own assets without me backing them up. Instead of her taking the hint she spirals into a totally new direction, her face knotted like she is livid that I am sitting in the same room as her.

"What about you? I've seen you in the market. You can lift hundred-pound bags of flour. Tell him that. That's not nothing." she practically hisses.

"Yes, and I'm sure the arena will be full of bags of flour for me to chuck at people. It's not like being able to use a weapon. You know it isn't." I state bitterly, frustration boiling in my veins, traveling up my arms like lava.

"He can wrestle. He came in second in our school competition last year, only after his brother." she tells Haymitch, no longer looking at me. She thinks I have betrayed her but she has it too wrong. I am growing more agitated as the seconds tick on. I would really love to storm out of the room to be with myself but I can't. It's hard to leave things unsaid and hanging.

"What use is that? How many times have you seen someone wrestle a person to death?" I ask impatiently because that may work on the playground but I'm sure i'd be dead in three seconds in the arena trying to roll around in the dirt with someone else.

I spend the next few seconds arguing with her, both of us trying desperately to point out why the other will succeed. There is this invisible robe between us, a tugging match that I can sense neither of us are too keen to play. It's once the word survivor leaves my mouth that the cord is cut and the emotions become raw. I'm back to the bakery, back to feeling the hot iron kiss my face in response to keeping Katniss in my life.

"But only because someone helped me." She says, putting down her venom laced words, shedding the steels that covers her. I look down at her hands, the capable hands that should have never know what it was like to starve like that. I push back the memory, seeing her so weak, out of my head. Instead a shrug like it was no big deal, for me it really wasn't. I just needed to help her.

"People will help you in the arena. They'll be tripping over each other to sponsor you." I say indifferently.

"No more than you." Katniss replies.

I can't stand it. Our moment of peace is gone. Does she realize how many people would literally jump at the chance to protect her? Gale would, and so would I. She's like some kind of drug you can't persuade yourself to stop taking. You keep on shoving it down your throat because the thrill is worth more than your sanity.

"She has no idea. The effect she can have." I say, embarrassed at how I just let this slip out of my mouth. I run my finger along the table, hoping she won't figure me out. As always, Katniss takes everything I say to a completely different extreme, and for once, it sort of stings me.


	8. 8

**So I must say this before I move on with the story. I am aware that the beginning is slow and I have been following the book strictly but it is only to test out Peeta's character in comparison to Katniss. I am still exploring the character thoroughly but I am pressing forward with the story they way I intended it. Keep reading and I hope you guys enjoy.**

Chapter 8

The team thing is slowly killing me. Katniss had to spend our whole training day trailing behind me, pretending that she actually was interested in what the both of us could accomplish together. I wish it could be different, that she would see reason instead of turning me into the bad guy every time I said one word out of place. She was thinking too much already and having the highest score of the tributes would bring more fault to the way she played the game. I couldn't imagine what her interview would be like if she couldn't spend more than two hours with me without being offended. It scared me to think that she may turn off sponsors from her tight jaw, locked in place, never portraying emotion. I waited until she was already fast asleep in her room before I pulled on my shirt, tip-toed from my own room, and headed down the corridor to the one person I never wanted to make myself vulnerable to, the one who held all the pieces to our life in his drunken hands.

He had to be expecting me, his chair tilted back in a cocky way. He motioned for me to sit down in an abandoned seat while taking a healthy swig from his flask. I wasn't sure what I was going to say. I could pretend this was some kind of idea I had been prodding over, a master plan of sorts, but I know he would figure me out almost instantaneously. I had to remember why I was doing this, what was at stake.

"So, ready to go on about the lop-sided thing?" Haymitch said, a bit of a smile playing at his lips.

"Only if you think it will save her...she's not as personable as I believe she needs to be for people to like her." I slowly say rubbing my hands on my temples. I needed sleep, the nightmares creeping up again, but I had to pay attention to the task at hand.

"She has no charm...a corpse would be better suited to talk during that interview." Haymitch muses.

"So then, we make her charming. I know I can talk people up...My father says I can persuade people to give up their whole wallet for a loaf of bread." I say awkwardly.

"You can't spend the whole interview talking only about her, unless you had a reason to."

"I do."

"Well, let it out boy, I don't have all night for you to be coy with me. Look either you be honest or get the hell out of my sight. You want to save her?" Haymitch demands. It hits me hard. Of course I want to save her. He knows I wouldn't have done half the things I've been pushing toward if I wasn't constantly trying to save her neck. I really want to hit something, some object needs to receive my frustration in full. I just narrow my eyes and let the energy surge through my limbs, turning it into quiet courage.

"I'll say I love her." I whisper.

"Well, thanks for the confession. If you want to play this right make sure they know it's been a long term thing. I am assuming it has been but I don't need you to go into detail with me. The crowd will eat it up and I'm sure you'll be able to turn on the charm." Haymitch instructs.

"And what about Katniss. I was thinking I should let her know but anytime I say anything to her I feel like she's going to throw me off the building. I think she'll refuse or ruin it." I quickly add.

"Let her be surprised. Now go to your room and try to get some sleep. You need to look just as attractive as she does in order for those people to want to give you their life's savings."

"Yeah, I will."

"And Peeta..." Haymitch trails off.

"What?" I ask, turning to face him before I head out of the door.

"I'm sorry." Haymitch breathes. It is the first time I see any emotion cross his face and before I blink it is completely gone. I know what he is apologizing for and at the moment I have to ignore it because I don't want to fall to pieces right in front of him.

The interview comes and goes but the night keeps me captive. My hands are wrapped, the usual defensive response from Katniss was wrongly placed and even when I thought we could be getting along for a moment before we both were shoved into the arena, I blew it. It's tragic that I couldn't convince her that I wanted nothing more than to be close to her, that I wasn't planning how to kill her at every moment, but she doesn't seem to care at all. I can just take these scars to my death bed and always hold with me the notion that I tried. I could change things in the arena, I could make her see reality but it was only if I could get past the first few minutes alive. I was going to do it by any means possible, keep her alive as long as I could but that required me to be smart enough to live through the entire game too.

I remember Sam again and how we would just talk. He told me that he thought I was too kind at times, that there would come a moment that I would need to think for myself first. If he could see me now he would be shaking his head, disappointed in the decisions I have made so far. Could I ever look past my heart to be selfish? I wasn't sure but they always say that this will change you. In the morning I would know if being myself would be my first priority or if I would become a savage.

I don't sleep and when I am finally with Portia she is quiet. I know what she wants to ask before I leave her and I won't make her say it. I won't make her feel awkward because she has been my friend, the only one who hasn't gotten frustrated with me, who hasn't tried to beat me down.

"It's true, what I said about her." I say as she assembles the last pieces of my suit for the arena.

"Oh Peeta...I know, I could see the honesty." Portia responds somberly.

"She thinks I am being stupid. I don't understand how she doesn't see it herself...I don't know if I want her to anymore. It's not worth it to be hurt." I ramble on.

"Katniss is very strong. Very independent..." she says as an afterthought.

"I know." She puts on my tracker and gives me a look over before she pulls me into a hug. I can hear the timer ticking off, my time as a normal human is up. I have one last thing to get off my chest and Portia is the closet thing I have to a best friend in the capitol.

"I am going to send her back to twelve. She's going to come home." I say before the tube seals around me. Portia starts to cry and I feel like I could bust apart. It's not fair, this life we are forced to live, and I am done letting these people have their way. The sun hits my face and I am now staring at the grass. Haymitch has told us to run away and I can feel myself nodding to Katniss as she eyes the bow and arrows laid out at the cornucopia.

My feet sink into the ground as the gong goes off. I'm stocky, my speed definitely lacking, but I manage to put some distance between myself and all the slayings, enough to plan my next move. I would have to find a place to hide and find water but it may take me hours to conjure up some sort of camp like that. I am almost certain the careers are going to find me before too long, so I dot in and out of bushes, keeping a keen eye on what is happening at the blood bath. Katniss nearly gets diced by a knife and it takes all of my sense not to go running back into the field, but before I can even think, she is gone deep within the trees. The careers have all made an alliance, stalking around the supplies and weapons, head held superior to all. I could try to find some type of cave but they look like they are beginning their hunt for more victims on the outskirts.

It pops into my head as I try to put more yards between me and those barbarians. The idea is completely insane, not to mention that I will have to have extreme faith that the audience won't completely detest me for my actions. If I want to make sure that none of those blood thirsty deranged demons don't get hold of Katniss and crucify her, I may have to become very sneaky and break down my defenses to infiltrate their inner workings.

I go back into the field to find a weapon and I see a knife close to me. I plan to grab it and run back so I have some time to improve my dialogue to the careers but they catch up to me and the beating ensues. My arm cracks, I know the kicks to my face are just a way to play with their food. They let me get up and I stumble to the outskirts of the woods as the close in behind me. I have cut someone but who ever it is doesn't show pain. I am numb but I know more than anything it is what I need to do.

"Any last words for your girlfriend?" A boy, I think his name is Cato, says.

"No, I just wonder if you are dumb enough to kill me." I muster, leaning on a tree and staring him down with as much confidence I can draw to my face.

"Excuse me? You are lucky you've had this many breaths so far." he spits, his hand resting on his knife, knuckles white from the grip.

"It would be so simple for you to get rid of me, but isn't it her you want?" I keep up.

"We'll find her soon enough."

"Sure you will. She didn't get an eleven by batting her eyelashes. You will probably be picked off by her before you have a chance to blink." I assure him. He looks at me dumbfounded, like I have tugged at some piece of truth that has been weighing on his mind. He brings his team into a quick group discussion and I can immediately see Cato is running the show. His teammate is quick to argue about keeping me but with one glare she stands down and is obediently like a dog at his side. He finishes the rest of his threats and comes back to my playing ground, equipped with his final thoughts. I could be killed in the next few seconds or I can lead them on a wild goose chase and hopefully get a majority of them wasted before it comes down to my demise. It's entirely in their hands.

"You're lucky today. I am keeping you alive in exchange for her life. After all, only one of you could win anyway. You accept this or I will take you out on the spot." He says, waiting for me to challenge him. I don't, instead I turn off the confidence and act like I am defeated and scared, giving him a quick yes. He points for me to follow at a spot in the middle so I won't feel the need to run off.

I am interrogated by most of the Careers on where she could be and of course I somehow persuade them into following their own instincts instead of my lead. I just trudge behind scanning for any sign of her, hoping she is far enough away. It's not easy to be backpacking with this lot, especially since they're favorite topic seems to be how to kill their next victim. I don't know what makes you become that sick, the years of brutal training, the desensitizing they must receive, but how on earth do you ignore the fact that they are human? It's something I don't have worked out yet, that I will have to look at someone who is breathing, who is able to communicate sorrow and horror, and end their life for the salvation of my own. I am thinking it won't be entirely hard with this bunch though.

Night falls and the finally tally of death is displayed across the counterfeit sky. She's not up there and I know for a moment I crack a smile. We are both still in this, my promise is still in full effect. I see smoke in the distance and the careers practically leap with pure excitement. I need to stall them for a few moments because it could be anyone, it could be Katniss.

"We should wait to spring to action." I say, holding my tone even.

"Why? are you afraid to fight lover-boy?" Cato teases.

"No, I am saying that those tributes may not be as dumb as they look. We need to be smart about this if we are going to get far, if we want to keep our numbers." I advise.

"Okay then genius, you get to walk up to whoever it is first. Then we'll know if the kid is a lunatic or not." Cato mutters.

"I'm suggesting we make sure there isn't anyone else trying to go after the same target, if they were, we could take them out after they take the person who was crazy enough to send an obvious smoke signal." I defend.

"Fine. Whatever. Let's go." Cato doesn't like that I am right but he accepts this and is careful. We spend a few minutes sweeping the forest and I see Cato hang back, apparently ready for round two with me. He has a smirk on his face and he bounces on his toes like he's proud that he has accomplished the action of formulating a thought.

"So the confessional, fake huh?" Cato asks, obviously curious as to why my mood had shifted from love seeking teenager to backstabbing partner.

"Whatever gets me farthest in this game." I lie.

"Well, lover boy, if you prove to be as cut throat as I am thinking, and I catch her, maybe you have a spot with me until the end." Cato snickers as he goes back to the lead in the pack. They are preparing for the murder and I can see it, a little bit away, someone is well hidden in a tree. If I hadn't been so fortunate to be able to manipulate camouflage myself, I wouldn't have detected her. I know no one else will be able to pick up on this because they would have to walk several yards to even detect the slightest glimmer of a person, but I do know I have to move them away quickly, once they are paid a night of celebration with their last kill.


	9. 9

**9**

The snap of the branch makes her head instantly swivel. The girl from district eight is worried. I feel like she can almost smell us, that she can taste the tension in the air. I can hear her heart beating even from my position in a near by shrub and I can see her foot tap nervously. She is going to run.

"If we wait any longer we are going to have to chase her." I whisper to Marvel. I feel like dirt, to be instructing them on when to kill an innocent girl, but it is the only thing I can do to completely gain their trust. They were extremely thick in the first place to actually believe I wanted to help them kill Katniss and I didn't want to push my luck with underestimating them.

"How do you know?" he replies as quietly as I had spoken earlier.

"Her feet. She heard us walking."

I could never be a hunter, it was extremely clear to me within the first few minutes of the game. I didn't understand how to be quiet, my feet always betraying me. I stopped like a zombie through the underbrush and I could tell that Marvel and Cato were in my same position. It was too easy for someone to hear the group of us coming, especially since every one's senses are at their peak.

"One person should go. We're all too loud." I hear myself say.

"Fine, I will." Marvel hisses. Cato just watches as Marvel slips into the darkness, away from the group. He doesn't trust Marvel to do this by himself, it is clear the way his knees keep jerking. I hear him instruct Glimmer to follow Marvel while we wait for the action to happen. Marvel raises his weapon in his meaty hands while he positions his body to strike the prey. The girl gets up and starts to take off, Glimmer quickly streaking past marvel and tackling the girl to the ground. I can't take my eyes off of it, the way they work, disgust filling my throat. Marvel gives a few quick words, walking in a circle before his arms twitch and he strikes her side. I make sure my face is hard as stone, taking a note from Katniss's demeanor and copying it for my own.

Cato comes out from his spot and I see them all high five each other, finally turning to me. It's my time to look captivated in this sport, to view myself as victorious. As everyone mumbles to each other, I can quickly see how Glimmer is hanging on to Cato like he is a treasure. If it came down to it, he would kill her and move on so quickly, she wouldn't even have time to register it.

I question my intentions at this moment. Is it not true that relationships like this, partnerships, are not meant to last in the arena? If I could keep Katniss alive, I wonder if I would let her kill me in order for her to win. If it came down to just the two of us, would I change my mind and figure out a way to go home? I do not know why I value her life over mine. I am in the most dangerous position right now because I am trying to keep them away from her. I am scared that if I stop talking, stop impressing them, that I will feel the sting of a sword to my side. I am pressed to think it would be better to take my chances and abandon this notion of being a hero and fending for myself. Can't I have a shot too?

Cato sees me in the corner and comes over, making Glimmer stand behind. He always manages to have his hands ready to fight but his face has become more serious. It is not remorse, I am sure he has no room for that emotion in his system. He has tackled something in his small brain.

"You're smart Lover-boy, but I am wondering what you are doing here?" he asks.

"You want me to help you find Katniss, why else do you think I am here?" I respond.

"I threatened you to get you here, beat you up even. Were you really going to find her and kill her?" he presses.

"Only one can win, surely you know that." I say, letting my eyes fall on Glimmer.

"Yes, and I am rethinking who I want to battle in the last moments with." He finished. I know what he means. He wants me to be his right hand man, to plow through the rest of these people. He thinks with Glimmer hanging on him, she'll make him weak and he sees my betrayal as the utmost sign of a fighter.

It makes me think of the possibilities, my reality slowly slipping away. I can almost see myself back at the bakery, back to my real life. This is not the same Peeta who stood next to Portia and promised to send the Girl, the huntress, back to her hometown. I am undecided, I am tired and worn down from only a day in the arena. I don't give anything else much thought until we are walking away and I realize the cannon hasn't sounded. I know I'm not the only one who has this thought when a fight breaks out before I can stop it. We are underneath Katniss now and I don't look up because it will give her away. There it is, my subconscious is protecting her. I have to get them out of here so that they don't take her down, I have to lead them away.

"We're waisting time! I'll go finish her and let's move on!" I yell as I double back into the woods. It is time to kill and I know it isn't for my sake. I see the girl still laying on the ground, a pool of blood surrounding her. I don't know how she is still breathing but I see her chest fall slowly and I know the end is coming soon. I walk over and kneel by her, quickly checking for any sign of the careers. They are still a bit ahead of me and apparently have no interest in watching me complete this mission. I lean my head so my lips are close to her ear and I close my eyes, hoping not to have to watch the agony on her face unfold.

"You're not okay." I say.

"I know." she tells me, taking a long rattling breath.

"I am so sorry...Sorry." I here myself say.

"Me too." She responds. She takes out a small dagger and plunges it into the wound to finish her own life off, leaving me there baffled. I don't hang around but I move forward. The cannon rings loud in my ears and I know this is why I can't go on past the seventy-fourth hunger games. I would be insane once I got out, having to be apart of things like this. I return to them and of course the banter begins again. My leg is getting worse, the pain throbbing against my skin. The banter is getting to me, their voices literally tugging at my heart. I would give anything to be back in the Capitol, living in one of the rare moments when Katniss actually liked me. I would give anything to have a dream in which she wasn't dead.

* * *

><p>It started with fire. I could see the smoke thick in one section of the woods and I immediately came to the conclusion the game makers were becoming bored with our stalking around the forest. Marvel suggested we go check out what could have happened but I had no desire to. I was sure Katniss would be on foot now, that she would be trying to run away from whatever disaster had started. It didn't matter that I protested or offered eight other places Katniss may be camping at, they were always going to follow each other before they would ever follow me. It's when they found her when my heart seemed to fall right from my body. She was quick, running to a tree, and they were anxious to bring her down.<p>

I couldn't hide my annoyance at the situation. I failed miserably. I was hoping we would meet her when our numbers had dwindled down to at least three but there were too many to have us to both make it out alive. I angrily told them that she had to come down eventually and picked a spot on the ground where she couldn't see me but I could keep a good eye on her. What was I supposed to do now? She probably thought I really was aligned with these people and I would have no chance at erasing that anytime soon. I should just stage this big battle and get dying over with so that she can run free. I am trapped in one of my nightmares again because if I die without explaining myself, she will hate me forever. Being sixteen isn't supposed to be like this, I am not supposed to see my heart shattered into pieces before I can even give it to someone. I have to be honest with myself, I already have given it careers fall asleep and I can feel myself dozing too...

The buzzing snaps me awake. It's mutts, the captiol's design, and I find my feet pounding against the rock filled dirt as I run away. She is smart, she had figured a way to get out of the mess without my help. I am starting to think she won't need me at all but if I quit now, it would be pointless. I make it too the lake and plunge under, feeling the stings of the tracker-jackers bubble under the water. My body is lighting with pain, every inch extremely sensitive to touch. I wait until my oxygen supply has fully run out before I run back out of the water and into the woods. I have to make sure she has gotten away and when I'm back to the tree I see her scrambling on the ground, clutching the bow and arrows in her hands. She has finally got it, the weapon of her choice and I can tell she would risk her life to obtain and keep it. I know Cato saw me head back here and there are only seconds to scoot her on her way.

"What are you still doing here?" I say, putting my hands on her, trying to make her steady. I grab a spear and poke her but she still looks up at me like a newborn child, innocent and ignorant of the world.

"Are you mad?" I say again. She gets up and I find myself pushing her, screaming at her to run. In that moment Cato is slashing through the underbrush and catches me red handed, shooing her away. I poise the spear to strike and take a good swipe at him. It's more of a dance we are doing. I am putting my body between Cato and Katniss and I will not let him get pass me. I strike once more and catch him on his arm but he uses the moment to cut my leg wide open.

"There. You can die slowly, you deserve it." He says turning away. I make a run for it before he can change his mind and finish me off. I know if any other tribute finds me, I am an easy target. I do not know how much time has passed before I reach the stream because I am losing consciousness. I take my last ounce of strength to camouflage myself into the side of the rocks, caking myself in mud.

What can I say of the time I spent laying in the earth? You get an immense amount of moments to think things over when your dying, to evaluate your life. I've only been alive sixteen years and I've spent about eleven of it in love with a girl who I could never have. I have never tried to understand my mother but I let her beat me down instead. They were now watching me risk my life for the girl with the braid and I know only my father would understand and my mom would call me a coward.

I wish I would have been different. I am confident but it is easy for me to find all of my bad qualities and under rate myself in the face of my peers. If I had taken the time to just look at the world in the face and be true to myself, I wonder if I'd be happier with my soul when I died. It has been a constant struggle to walk around in my skin because it is what separates me from the world I want to be in. I have to admit to myself, in my final hour, that I crave to be like Gale. He is real, a tangible person not hiding behind his fears. I do wonder why he hasn't made a bigger move toward Katniss because I know I would have if the tables were reversed.

The last hot summer night I spent with my brothers I remember being on the back porch of the bakery, finishing the last bit of stock. It was so still between us, each too busy and wrapped up in their own world. Luther finally turns to the both of us and raises his eye brows as if he is ready to throw down some type of challenge.

"Are we going to hate each other when we grow up?" He asks simply.

"Don't we already?" I joke. His face falls hard into thick deep lines. It's hard to love each other in a family like this, in a world like this. We are always constantly trying to strive ahead but we never take a moment to look into the background and pick out the colors of our lives that are faded into the sunset.

"I won't hate you." I say to cover up my joke. He doesn't look convinced and I do nothing else to edge the subject into a correct direction. I let it sit and let the heartache fill deeper. It's always like this a I guess. You take regrets to the grave because life will never be perfect, because you always have messed it up somehow. I know a day or two has passed since I have been soaking here and I wonder why I am still holding on. It's the same reason my subconscious rocks me into action, because I can't rest until I know she is safe.

My flesh is melting. I want to jump up from my hole and be free. The hallucinations from the venom is finally getting to me, I've fought it off for far too long without consequence. I feel like I have craters in all of my pores that are being stuffed with lava and I just hope that soon I will cool off and harden. If I could close my eyes for a quick second then It will all go away slowly...

Her face keeps my eyelids from shutting completely. Katniss is calling my name, begging for me to pull through this nightmare. It's another cruel hallucination, much worse than the one before. I can't help myself from answering her though because even a fantasy where she is happy with me is better than nothing at all.

"Why should I stay alive? Tell me one good reason." I whisper.

"Peeta...I do care." she says to me.

"You're lying." I cry out.

"Peeta...do you really believe that?"

I don't. There is some twisted part of me that thinks there is a tiny portion of her that would want to save me, that she loves me too. I sink into self depression where I let the tracker-jacker venom create visions of her and it's when I hear the Captiol music and a voice rise clear above the noise of nature that I fall back into what is happening now.

"Tributes of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games. I am pleased to announce there has been a last minute rule added to bring the stakes even higher. Two can be victorious if the tributes both hail from the same district, but if paired with someone who is not from your district, only one can win. Happy Hunger Games."

The voice cuts off abruptly and the waiting game begins. I am tortured with the fact that she will not think I'm worth it but my hallucinations have got me believing in miracles. I want to help her find me but I could just be making things worse for the both of us if I even move from my prison. She would be better off without me anyway, better off without someone who is readily giving their life to the wind. I've been spending my days muttering about Katniss, pleading to have her back and I am not sure if I want her to find me in such a tattered state. I make a point to pull myself together and snap my mind back into place. I let myself cool off and bide my time, just waiting for the impossible to happen...

"You here to finish me off sweetheart?" I say when she is close to me. I have to be cautious because I have to remember she doesn't live in my head, that my actions haven't been very clear.

"Peeta, Where are you? Peeta..." She says, a frown furrowing along her face.

"Well, don't step on me." I muse. It's the most joking I have done in a while and for some reason with her here, it is easier to feel light again. I feel ten times stronger and a thousand times happier. I finally feel alive.


	10. 10

**I have to say that the entire cave seen has been difficult to write. I think I have possibly written this chapter about 20 times and deleted it, which is why I haven't posted anything. I am not even sure I am happy with this product but I have to let it go..With that said, I'm thinking 2 more chapters before this ends. It's been really great and I am sure Catching Fire will be a pure joy to write in Peeta's point of view. Thanks loads for being patient!**

**10**

There is a moment where I considered not speaking anymore. If she didn't find me and moved on, her odds would be increasingly better than dragging around someone who was half dead. I have to be selfish though because for the past few days I have wanted nothing more then to see her bright grey eyes, the dark ripple of hair trailing down the curve of her back. It's like my hallucinations are arriving again and as a let out a deep belly laugh, her eyes grow wide at the sight of me caked into mud, weeds and the faint trail of moss making the shape of my body.

"Close your eyes again." she tells me and I am more than happy to oblige. I guess dying by her is better than having a chipmunk make a home on my leg as my corpse rots in the dark. With my luck some capital mutt would have made me dinner.

"I guess all those hours decorating cakes paid off." she finally says, a hint of humor in her voice. We are finally friends here, in the place where life is as fragile as a silk strand taut on a spindle. It's nice to know that I don't have to worry that my actions will send her away because we both know we are loyal to each other and nothing else. I smile at her, I really can't help myself. She found me, she cared enough and that is all that truly matters.

"Yes, frosting. The final defense of the dying." I joke, feeling the familiar sting of my leg making its numbing way up my body.

"You're not going to die." She says as if she is trying to convince the open wound on my leg and my insides to stop plaguing me, that she is now in charge. All the excitement is wearing at me and I know I'm getting weaker by the second. It's the joy of seeing her face that is keeping me going right now and I still try to make an effort to keep my eyes open to talk to her.

"Says who?" I barely manage to mumble.

"Says me. We're on the same team now, you know." She informs me as if I wasn't in the same arena when the announcement was made. She is trying to justify the need to find me and so am I. It would have been easy for Katniss to move on but something sent her back into the forest and bundling to this stream to save me. I hoped that my efforts to keep her from the careers had revealed my intentions, showed that what I told the capitol was more than some statement me and a drunk cooked up. She asks me where I've been hurt and I can't help my mind from making more comments and the products flowing from my mouth. I was telling her she could kiss me and she she laughed in reply which fills the forest with this refreshing air, giving me a third wind of life for today. Then she eyes me down one more time and prepares to torture me in the form pealing me from my coffin.

She rolls me to the water which makes me feel like I am going to pass out with each inch of ground I cover. I want to throw up but there is nothing left in my system to get rid of. I want to punch the earth just to take out my anger on something I cannot really hurt. I can see Katniss, her face crammed with frustration and compassion. She's talking to me and I am answering but my responses are not registering. I just wish she'd would lean over and give this dying man his one last wish, a kiss so long that I would have to force myself to take a breath. Her fingers flutter over my body and I feel my clothes starting to come off. I watch to see how far she was willing to go just to clean me up, a faint blush rising to me cheeks. I wasn't going to live long enough for this to be awkward later so if she saw me naked it wasn't a big deal right? I tried to keep telling myself those words but nothing hit home.

I watch her bite her lip as she searches through her bag and her hand emerges with a bottle. She slips pills into my mouth and forces me to eat a few bits of dried apple, coaxing them into my mouth as if I was a newborn baby. It's really sexy, the way she is taking care of me, the slight dimple that forms in her cheek when she is thinking too hard. I slip into the realm of a normal sixteen year old boy, the place where I would be aloud to notice these things and appreciate them fully. Reality is so stunning when it slaps you in the face and I find myself asking for sleep, possibly because I know my dreams could be filled with Katniss and nothing more.

Katniss doesn't indulge in my request and dives into looking at my leg. I haven't truthfully seen it in a while and the puss that starts cascading from the deep wound sends Katniss eyes rolling into the back of her head. I want to laugh because I am sure when she is hunting that she has experience a lot worse than my leg but once I catch wind of the rotten smell of my flesh, I gag. I watch her to see if I should intervene but she swallows hard and starts fumbling her finger tips around my leg.

"Pretty awful huh?" I say. Katniss tries to play everything off and explains that she has seen worse than this but I knew that it was a lie. I can sense it, that she is wondering how on earth she is going to keep me living through the night. I've already counted myself as a dead man but the confirmation in her face is still chilling. She shoves more food into my hand and I let out a groan, but her quick look makes me lift the pears to my mouth to take a weary nibble. She explains that she is going to experiment and I try to give her an encouraging nod. After a few minutes of silence I have to speak because I'm afraid if I stop that I'm letting precious minutes slip away.

"Katniss...How about that kiss?" I say, looking into her eyes. She laughs at me, just like before, and I want that kiss so badly that I reside to the innocent one year old pout.

"Something wrong?" I keep on in a soft voice.

"I...I'm no good at this. I'm not my mother. I've no idea what I'm doing and I hate pus, Ew." she says. She changes the leaves again but is a bit more truthful about how disgusted she really is. I like this playfulness and if I could only get that kiss, I would be set to die right on the bank of the stream. I think that it can't be that easy, otherwise I would have gotten one a half hour ago.

"How do you hunt?" I ask, tilting my head sheepishly to the side.

"Trust me, Killing things is much easier than this, Although for all I know, I am killing you." Katniss jokes.

"Can you speed it up a little?" I request.

"No. Shut up and eat your pears." She snaps, but then gives me a little smile.

It occurs to me that neither of us have had much human contact since the games has started. We have been able to talk to other players but there has always been this nagging feeling in the back of our brain, on when we are going to have to kill whomever we are with and how it will happen. We are actually at peace here, not worrying about who has what weapon, whether it is best to sleep with a spear pointing toward your opponents head. It makes the capitol feel so far away even though we are placed underneath its careful eye.

I let all of my reservations go. The scared baker who would not dare say a word to the girl with the braid has completely vanished. I need to just be...whomever I was too chicken to be before. I need her because that is what my heart keeps screaming at me. No more second guessing her actions and wondering how much trouble I have gotten myself into this time. Faded blushed kissing my cheeks are a thing of the past. I am ready just to enjoy the limited minutes I have left before I become a faded memory. Katniss hands me a backpack and I let my eyebrow lift a little in reply.

"Here, cover yourself and I'll wash your shorts." She instructs and after my mental breakthrough, I have become a little shameless.

"Oh, I don't care if you see me," I reply, rolling my eyes at this. Covering myself with a backpack, what has this world come to with me stripping down to nakedness on television?

"You're just like my family. I care, all right?" She responds. I refrain from teasing her too much because she could give my leg one good squeeze and send my mouth into a tight lock. I abide by her rules and send my last piece of clothing into the water, a splash signaling that I am now bare with nothing but a capitol product to cover me. If one of the other tributes came upon us in this moment I think I would choose to die sitting in this position rather than force a run with my bits hanging out. Actually, I would pay to see their face if they came upon this scene, pure genius this is. Katniss is by the stream and I focus my attention on her, like I've dedicated most of my life to.

* * *

><p>I sit in the cave looking down at Katniss. Blood poisoning was meant to be the end of me but Katniss couldn't let it be. She had to go into the mix of things once more and this time her wound is entirely my fault. I can't even think of the times we kissed so far anymore, the joy and triumph of the very first one has left my lips. I am feeling raw and out of tune because she is still out cold and my bandage hasn't seemed to help her much in the way of returning to me. Waking up to see the one person you would take several beatings for, face death and laugh at it for, swimming in a pool of her own blood is enough to send your mind into a tail spin.<p>

I never wanted this...I wanted to be the one who sent her home to her mother and sister, I never wanted to live without her. I stroke her forehead and steal another kiss, my lips grazing her forehead. I scoop her up and lay her in my lap, hoping that there is someway I can will her back to life. I keep praying to whomever takes care of our lives, I want to be taken away instead. I plead with the capitol last night when I found her to just shoot me because the games were not worth it...my life wasn't worth it. How can I be so dramatic, so suicidal, when I just talked to Katniss for the first time only a short while ago? It's the same feeling I had when I risked that beating to give her the bread, that life wouldn't be the same unless she was on earth.

Her arm twitches and I set her back down on the sleeping bag, afraid to startle her too much by having her wrapped in my arms. I hover, like a worried mother, and keep repeating her name.

"Katniss, Katniss, can you hear me?"

Her eyes open with a jolt. She looks frightened, even upset, but something calms her as she looks on at me and I can't help but feel relived that she may be glad to be waking up to my face.

"Peeta," She barely whispers, but my name melts like chocolate off her voice even in her frailty.

* * *

><p>Me and Katniss are joking again and I can't help but blink a few extra times to make certain that we are both still alive and doing far better than when originally teamed up. Katniss thinks Thresh has found my imaginary bread bush and I am too keen on giving a laugh to offer another joke back to her. I think Haymitch owes me something for wanting to basically find Cato to end my life after Katniss's little stunt and I mention to her what on earth we could do for him to show us some kindness. She pauses as if to contemplate something but starts to smirk.<p>

"Well, he probably used up a lot of resources helping me knock you out." she says, her voice a little husky, almost like she is trying to tempt me. I can feel my body exploding. It doesn't matter that there is dry blood in her hair or that neither of us have bathed in what seems like forever. She is sending me over the edge by batting her eyelashes and it's taking all restraint not to lean over and give her a real kiss.

"Yeah about that, Don't try something like that again." I say, letting my fingers intertwine with hers.

"Or what?" she asks, blinking slowly at me.

"Or...Or...Just give me a minute." I am speechless. I don't think there has ever been a time where I have been completely lost for words but I sit here practically dumbfounded, and I know it is the effect Katniss seems to have on me.

"What's the problem?" She asks, delighted with having gotten her way.

"The problem is we're both alive. Which only reinforces the idea in your mind that you did the right thing." I state simply.

"I did do the right thing," she defends. In my mind she didn't. I don't know why but even though the two of us are seemingly happy, I can't shake the feeling that something is going to ruin this picture and one of us is still going to have to die.

"No! Just don't, Katniss! Don't die for me. You won't be doing me any favors. All right?" I yell, and I feel my fingers grasp her tighter, willing her to understand. I don't want to come out and say that if she died, everything that she had sacrificed for me would be a waste, that I would go home an empty shell of a person, but if she can't see reason I may have to. I could never leave here and go back to a normal life if she stopped existing, never.

"Maybe I did it for myself, Peeta, did you ever think of that? Maybe you aren't the only one who...who worried about...what it would be like if..." she stammers. My heart stops. Is it possible that this is hard for her too? That maybe I'm not the only one who though that if the other dies, going back to district 12 wouldn't be an option. I don't know but I want desperately to find out.

"If what, Katniss?" I say, stroking her hand with my thumb.

"That's exactly the kind of topic Haymitch told me to steer clear of," she says but I'm not letting this moment go, no matter what drunk man says. He is not in the arena and he can't begin to know how I feel right now.

"Then I'll have to fill in the blanks myself," I say, and I move forward. This kiss is different from the others, I can feel it in the way her lips greet mine, hungry and waiting for more. Her hands seem to wander a bit, trying to grasp my shirt to pull me closer, and I reply by kissing her harder. I have never felt this way, the tingling in my veins, the sensation on her skin skimming mine. I have to break us up, which is a first for me because I can smell the salty copper of blood. She still looks at me longingly and I only give her another kiss on the nose because no matter how much I want kiss her again, I would never do it at the risk of harming her.

"I think your wound is bleeding again. Come on, lie down, it's bedtime anyway." I tuck her into the sleeping bag and feel triumphant at the fact that she is in my arms and I can actually protect her. She nuzzles into me a bit and I let my mind wander for the first time tonight. If she hadn't started bleeding, I wonder how long that kiss would have continued? I wonder what my mother thinks of the girl I have chosen and what will happen if the both of us go home? Can you really date after something like this or is it an immediate given that you'll be together forever? I don't know but I hope that she loves me too.

Nothing is extraordinary about the next day but her curiosity peaks and she asks how long I have had a crush in her. I think it is safe to say that it is more than a crush, considering all that has happened but I satisfy her thirst for knowledge by telling her of the first time my dad pointed her out to me. She doesn't believe me, that it could go back this far, but I know from the torment I've faced for years that it is very possible to go on what seems like forever hoping she would love me back, or even talk to me. I tell her I thought I was lucky to get picked for the reaping because I finally had my moment to say all those things I wished I hadn't spent years not saying and she steals a glance at me to see if I'm telling the truth.

"You have a remarkable memory." She says sweetly.

"I remember everything about you. You're the one who wasn't paying attention." I say as I tuck I strand of hair behind her ear. I do remember everything, what the sound of her voice is like when she is thoroughly amused, the way she always is grimacing, the dimples, the sparkle in her eye...everything is always noted.

"I am now." She whispers and it's all i've wanted to hear since I was five, but I can't help but feel if Gale was somewhere in this arena, he'd be in my position receiving all of her affection.

"Well, I don't have much competition here." I state thinking of the fact that I am the only person not trying to kill her.

"You don't have much competition anywhere." She lets slip and I can feel my inner self dancing, make that flipping, with absolute joy. For the first time in my life I let one crazy notion slip from deep in my brain. When I get home, if nothing has changed, I am going to marry this girl, no matter what.


	11. Chapter 11

**11**

One more tribute left. In the end I always knew it would be Cato and Katniss. I knew she could kill him easily because she could be ruthless when it came to someone who would dare harm anything innocent, anything she deemed off limits. With me standing here, Katniss wrapped up in my arms as I try to will away her fear, I am not sure exactly how this is going to play out. If she does love me, I wonder if she would do something absolutely stupid to save me if my life was on the line, much like her stunt with the sleeping syrup. I'm smarter now that I have been feed and restored to somewhat normal health. She'll never have the chance to make that choice again.

We are waiting for Cato, moving to the lake so that the capitol may have their final wish for a blood bath in the open. I watch the sunlight catch a strand of her hair and I have to force my face to be serious, trying desperately to mirror Katniss's signature scowl. It's too hard, I have to admit, because she is so damn attractive to me. Of all the things my mind could be steering toward, I'm thinking of her beauty. It's not just the olive skin, dark hair thick and pulled back revealing her perfectly sloped nose, it's her heart. She is not some kind of killing machine Cato was preparing to take on, nor was she this tough soldier she tried to convince everyone she was. Katniss was someone who hurt and a soul the loved so fiercely you had to take a step back to make sure you were lucky enough to receive that kind of affection.

It's quite, both of us too focused, waiting for the end. Now that the games could be over in a matter of hours, I am more scared than when the count down reached zero and I was running off of a cold metal platform. My life could move forward and until now I didn't have anything to look forward too. I figured I would never end up married unless I chose a loveless marriage like my parents before the games. I could do this though. I could fix Katniss's broken heart and I could make her see that living with pain and anger wasn't the way. The future is so daunting, I realize now, and maybe I shouldn't be counting on things said under the watch of curious eyes. I wonder if I am still in the muddy bank dying, if this is all just a cruel joke. She looks over at me for a split second, stealing a glance. Is she worried about what happens once we are home as much as I am? Can I believe the words that she has spoken freely or am I constantly the hopeful dreamer?

There is a yell in the distance and I know Cato has found us. It takes no time for both of us to be ready with our weapons and as I see him break into the open, I am filled with rage but some kind of gratitude as well. If he hadn't tried to kill Katniss and I, I don't know if we'd even be together right now. I don't know if I can end his life but as he charges closer I know what will snap me into survival mode, one swipe toward the girl I am in love with. Cato just goes between us and I freeze. Why in the hell would he miss an opportunity as fine as this? It is what's coming for him that is soon enough going to make dinner out of me that has him passing up a wrestle in the grass.

Katniss is already running and I am in no way upset about this. I would have wanted her to go before me so I gather my bearings and run as hard as I can on my injured leg. I'm about as fast as a fifteen ton whale in the middle of the beach. I can feel their heat catching up with me, the snarls and barks echoing their terror in my ears. I see her braid whip around, her hands grasped around the bow, shooting into the pack of mutts. I usher her with my hands to climb the cornucopia for a better shot, but most of all for better safety. I see her scramble up to the top and I let a brief sigh of relief until I realize those things are right on my back, trying to get a good swipe. I let a yell escape from my lips and I hear Katniss tell me to climb. I wish it were easy when your as hopeless as I am. I try in vain to get my hands to hoist me up and soon I feel Katniss making up the distance that I cannot reach by grabbing my arm. I get my first glimpse at the all mighty Cato. He is doubled over, gasping, and asking if those things can climb. I hope not because we'd all be dead.

I can't make myself do the obvious. I could go over there and slit his throat and then I would crown us victors. He is so weak and frightened that it would be easy enough, but that has never been me. He has grown up in a different world, one where this is all glory for him. It is not his fault he feels like the games is a place of honor and I know if the roles were reversed, I would be the same way. I try to come up with thousands of reasons to just swallow the knot in my throat and go for it but none of them has my feet moving toward him, so instead I focus my attention back to Katniss who looks as if she is going to hurl right on the metal underneath our feet. She screams and I am suddenly more worried that she's going to lose it.

"Katniss?" I say, grabbing her arm. I want to pull her into me, let her burry her head into my jacket, but I need to understand what's going on.

"It's her!" she chokes.

"Who?" I ask. She won't answer me and I feel myself panicking, shaking her, trying to bring her back to me.

"What is it Katniss?" I plead.

"It's them. It's all of them. The others. Rue and Foxface and...all of the other tributes." She stammers. I look down onto mutts and gasp at the sight. Those eyes are so human, so real that you can't help but wonder...no...could they do that?

"What did they do to them? You don't think...those could be their real eyes?" I feel my voice mixing with the same terror she once had. It's not just the eyes that are getting to me. Isn't it enough to have these tributes brutally murdered? Why does the capitol have to show their families this in the end? Their children mutilated into some kind of monster, kind faces wiped clean and innocence stripped from every inch of their body. It gets in my in the chest, the injustice of this whole situation and how it will never truly leave me once this is over. I am never going to get this image out of my head. Never.

"Kill it, Peeta. Kill it!" Katniss is yelling at me and I can barely recognize my hands as I slice my way through the mutants. I feel her dragging me to the top of the Cornucopia and I try to regain focus but it is hard to keep my eyes away from those mutts. I keep glancing back because I feel like something isn't right...that's when I realize what's about to happen...

My blood flies everywhere. I can't even register the pain because there is too much going on in my head, too many things to worry about. Cato's meaty hands find me and I can't even put up a good enough fight. I am in a head lock struggling to breathe, struggling to keep consciousness. Katniss's face is white, her knuckles red as she grips her bow. I see what she is already aware of, red droplets of my blood staining her cheeks, forehead, and jacket. She tries in vain to take him down and he laughs as if this is his own personal source of joy. I can feel my life sliding away and the very sad hope of continuing on past this game is traveling with speed away from my grasp.

"Shoot me and he goes down with me." He tells her and I can see the pain flashing in her eyes. I have to figure something out but with every labored struggle for air, I can't seem to focus on anything but death. What could I do to correct this, to make sure I had a chance? If I could just get enough strength to throw him, I could send him off to die with the other tributes he helped kill. I look down at his hand and I realize that if she shoots him right there, he'll let go of me. I brace myself as I let go of my leg, making a mark on his hand. As Katniss sees it, her face lights up and her arrow sinks into his skin. I give my last ounce of strength to back into him, sending him onto the ground below with me almost following. I can feel Katniss grab me and I collect her into my arms, holding her as if it would save us both.

It's long and tiring, the sounds of Cato fighting and losing. No matter how much I hate him, I can't stomach the though of his body being ripped into shreds. I kinda hunch over, letting my body slip from me and Katniss takes notice of how much blood is covering the area around me. I look at her face trying to always have that as my last memory because anything else would be just a waste. She slips her shirt off and ties up my leg, fastening an arrow to keep the blood from bathing the both of us. I don't really know what she is saying to me and I try my hardest to force myself to be there for her.

"Are you cold?" I ask and I let her climb into my jacket, pressing her against my body.

"Cato may win this thing yet." Katniss says but I can't let her feel like that. Not after all we have been through, the hell we have fought off.

"Don't you believe it." I respond. I want to kiss her neck, not to be romantic but to try to heal her with my affection. I wish that every kiss could give her some sort of renewed hope, every touch could bring all of her focus and pain into my body. I pull up her hood and rest my hands loosely around her waist. I don't know if I have ever seen this much compassion, this closeness, in any Hunger Games and for the first time I want to turn off every camera and savor this for myself only. I hate the fact that the world has been watching us but I also feel like this is the only way to prove later that this hadn't been all a dream, that Katniss really does love me. I turn off the world around me and focus on nothing but her slow breathing.

"Why don't they kill him?" She asks me with the same tone as a frightened child.

"You know why," I answer and I tighten my grip around her, sliding her body back further so that every inch of us are practically touching. I am soaking up her fear. I want to feel every emotion she hides from me and I want her to feel how sorry I am for waiting this long to tell her how much I loved her. I feel my eye lids get heavy and she is yelling me name. I need to stay alive because I am aware of how close we are now, that our souls might be latched together.

If one of us dies, it could be tragic for the both of us. It has occurred to me now that the only possible way to save her life is to preserve mine also. The hurt in her eyes when Cato had me around the neck convinced me I needed to be by her side indefinitely. No one will never know how we feel when the both of us get out of this thing, no one will know how to comfort us. The only hands and voice that could possibly sooth the emerging nightmares will be the pair of us quietly whispering that everything will be fine to each other.

We are standing face to face, the Gamemakers expertly delivering their final blow. Why did I believe that they were going to let me keep her, why did I think for a second that I was aloud to live? I have to convince her to kill me and at first I don't think it is going to be too hard. She had her bow positioned on me long enough to realize I wasn't pulling my knife to get rid of her, but to discard it into the water. She throws her bow down only to have me hobble and place it back in her hands. I can't let her do this, I can't have us both standing here for hours arguing about who is going to go.

"No, Do it." I say, my voice wavering.

"I can't, I won't." She answers me defiantly.

"Do it before they send those mutts back or something. I don't want to die like Cato." I plead. If I have to die like that to protect her, though, I am willing.

"Then shoot me, you shoot me and go home and live with it."She yells and I recognized the hurt that is coursing through her veins. I wouldn't last a day without her and to be the one that ended her life would make me no better than dirt. I would ask Haymitch to get rid of me, anyone to throw me away like yesterday's trash. I would be a mad man, worse than the drunken stage diver.

"You know I can't," I say with a sigh. My hands tremble over my bandage and I give it a good tug, opening it to drain me of life. Her eyes grow wide and she drops to her knees, fumbling over my wound.

"No, you can't kill yourself," She says, and I swear her voice, the distress in it, is threatening to kill me first.

"Katniss, It's what I want." I try to get out but I swear I am literally suffocating on the words. There is tears caught up in her eyes and she keeps shaking her head as if every word I utter is stabbing her body.

"You're not leaving me here alone." She whines and I am going to burst. I am trying not to cry, I am trying not to end up on my knees groveling in the pain of all of this. All I can do is pull her up and rub a stray tear from the corner of her eye and try to get her to understand me.

"Listen, we both know they have to have a victor. It can only be one of us. Please, take it. For me. Katniss everything I have said, everything I have done is to save you. You see, I love you. Listen to me dammit, I am so in love with you that life doesn't have a meaning...I can't make sense of anything unless you are here. Without you...Katniss please I can't live through this...Katniss please don't make me plead like this..." I can't make a complete sentence because it hurts too much when she has seemingly given up on all of this. I can't stand how much I'm burning inside when she doesn't take a second to pay attention to what would happen if I couldn't have her. Come on Capitol, put me out of my misery.

Her fingers catch around the pouch with the berries and I know what she is going to do. She wants to kill herself and I wonder how much time I would have before the Capitol comes to get me, if I could follow her soon after. I grab her wrist and she looks up at me, a scheme forming in those grey clouds.

"No, I won't let you." I mumble.

"Trust me." She whispers back. She drops berries into my hand and I realize what she wants. If we can't have each other, if we can't both live, then it's not worth either of us staying alive to face all the pain.

"On the count of three?" she says, and I kiss her gently just so that I can feel her lips one last time. Maybe in this second life she will get to be with her father, maybe I could talk to him and tell him what a beautiful gift his daughter is.

"The count of three." I say and we are back to back. "Hold them out. I want everyone to see." I finish. I want the crowd to see what the Capitol has forced us into, that they could not let two sixteen year olds go home together, to grow together as one. I want them to feel the heartache and what they have robbed away from us. Most of all I want them to uprise and tell the Capitol that they were absolutely wrong.

The count down doesn't register but once the music comes on I know that my last ditched effort for someone to save us has worked. I figured the crowd would in no shape or form want to see this ending because what do they have left to root for? There would be no one left to pity, no one to send flowers to or admire. They would only get silence and a dark ending to an already brutal game. We have survived it and I am getting to take Katniss home to her family, to district twelve, and she gets to come with me.

* * *

><p>The minutes spent away from her is killing me, but getting a new leg seems to be more important for the Capitol to get sorted out. I yearn to have her wrapped in my arms, to tell her that we are safe, that I will keep her safe forever. I feel the normal teenage boy returning and telling me to slow down before I frighten her, but I am not sure if I actually have an off button. When I see her, I know everything I stand for will come bundling back to me. When I kiss her my world will snap back to life. Losing a leg, being almost killed multiple times, is worth this. It was all worth this.<p> 


	12. 12

**So I have finally hit the end of The Hunger Games. Thanks for reading and I will be writing Catching Fire soon enough but I am taking time out to re-evaluate Peeta's character for the next one. Hope you guys stay tuned!**

**12 - Epilogue**

Lies. That is the only thing I can think of when the cameras start rolling and I am forced to grab her hand and smile, when we face district twelve. I should have died in that arena because this is worse than death, much worse. She says it doesn't make sense, her feelings, but mine have always rang out crystal clear truth. Haymitch knew these were my desires and hopes that he was toying with, and yet he chose to help her destroy them because no one thought I would be home to have everything smashed in my face. To think I was stupid enough to follow along, to let her play at my heart strings is almost unbearable. I am not completely mad at her but I feel like she has died, that she has left me here alone and abandoned. Can I face the rest of my life with her so close and unwilling to let me in? This is where I separate myself, when I know I have to move on. She does not love me so I must accept it and rebuilt what life I have left and try to move past this.


	13. Chapter 13

Hello all,

I have finally gotten around to writing the first chapter to the next book of the hunger games. It is my hope that I will be able to write well and continuously from here on. Hopefully you guys enjoy reading this as much I as I enjoy writing it!


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